THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 


'Look  here,  Rita.     Can't  I  help  you  out  some  way  ?'  "—Page  72 


The 
Sixty-First  Second 

By  Owen  Johnson 


Author  of 
"The  Varmint,1'    "Tennessee  Shad,"    Etc. 


With  Fotir  Illustrations 
By  A.   B.    WENZELL 


A.    I,.    BURT   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1912,  1913,  by 
THE  MCCLURE  PUBLICATIONS,  INC. 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


March ,  1913 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 


912880 


The  Sixty-First  Second 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  the  year  19 — ,  toward  the  end  of  the  month  of 
October,  the  country  was  on  the  eve  of  a  stupen 
dous  panic.  A  period  of  swollen  prosperity  had  just 
ended  in  which  Titans  had  striven  in  a  frenzy  for  the 
millions  that  opportunity  had  spilled  before  them. 

For  months  the  stock  market  had  steadily  lowered, 
owing  to  the  flight  of  the  small  investor,  affrighted 
by  the  succession  of  investigations,  the  fear  of  read 
justments,  and  the  distrust  of  the  great  manipulators. 
The  public,  which  understands  nothing  of  the  secret 
wars  and  hidden  alliances  of  finance,  had  begun  trem 
ulously  to  be  aware  of  the  threatening  approach  of  a 
stupendous  catastrophe.  So  in  the  ominous,  grum 
bling  days  of  October,  when  the  air  was  full  of  con 
fusing  rumors  and  violent  alarms,  the  public,  with 
its  necessity  for  humanizing  all  sensations,  perceived 
distinctly  only  two  figures,  each  dramatically  in  peril, 
about  whose  safety  or  ruin  the  whole  comprehensible 
drama  of  the  financial  cataclysm  seemed  to  center. 

These  two  figures,  both  presidents  of  great  trust 
companies,  giants  in  their  own  sphere,  represented 
two  opposite  elements  of  that  great  mass  of  society 
which  seeks  its  level  in  Wall  Street.  Bernard  L.  Ma- 
jendie,  president  of  the  Atlantic  Trust  Company, 
member  of  every  exclusive  club,  patron  of  the  arts, 
representative  of  one  of  the  oldest  American  families, 


2  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

accustomed  to  leadership  arid  wealth  from  colonial 
times,  was  linked  in  a  ucmnion  danger  with  John  G. 
Slade,  president  of  the  Associated  Trust  Company, 
promoter,  manipulator,  owner1  of  a  chain  of  Western 
newspapers,  a  man  who  had  hauled  himself  out  of 
the  lowest  depths  of  society.  Many  believed  that 
both,  in  the  relentless  readjustment  which  the  banks 
were  forcing  on  the  trust  companies,  were  destined 
to  be  blotted  out  in  the  general  catastrophe.  Many 
others,  perceiving  the  strange  oppositeness  of  the  two 
individuals,  speculated  on  which  would  survive  the 
other,  if  indeed  either  were  to  persist. 

About  three  o'clock  of  a  certain  afternoon,  when 
each  extra  brought  a  new  alarm,  John  G.  Slade  came 
abruptly  from  the  great  library,  down  the  sounding 
marble  descent  that  was  a  replica  of  the  famous  rampe 
of  the  Chateau  of  Gerny,  into  the  tapestry -hung  ves 
tibule  of  his  palace  on  upper  Fifth  Avenue. 

He  stood  a  moment  in  blank  meditation,  while  the 
third  man  held  his  overcoat  open  and  ready,  watch 
ing  anxiously  the  frown  on  the  face  of  the  master, 
who  stood  before  him,  a  massive  six-foot-four.  Al 
ready  in  the  great  marble  home  itself  was  that  feeling 
of  alarm  from  the  outer  world  which  had  communi 
cated  itself  to  the  servants.  Suddenly  Slade,  re 
turning  to  himself,  detected  the  furtive  scrutiny  of 
the  footman  and  the  butler,  who  had  so  far  departed 
from  their  correctly  petrified  attitudes  as  to  exchange 
wondering  glances.  He  frowned,  pointed  to  his 
loose  black  felt  hat  and  his  favorite  cane,  and  tore 
so  rapidly  through  the  heavily  ironed  doors  and  down 
the  steps  to  the  waiting  automobile  that  the  second 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  & 

footman  stumbled  twice  in  his  haste  to  be  before  him. 
Two  or  three  reporters,  who  had  been  lurking  behind 
the  great  marble  bastions,  sprang  forward  as  Slade, 
disappearing  in  the  motor,  was  whirled  away. 

"  Up  river,"  he  said  briefly,  and  sank  back  in  his 
seat. 

He  was  in  the  middle  forties,  a  man  noticeable 
anywhere  for  the  overmastering  vitality  of  his  car 
riage  and  the  defiant  poise  of  his  head.  Nature  had 
admirably  designed  him  for  what  he  was  intended  to 
be  —  a  being  always  at  war  with  men  and  surround 
ing  circumstances.  His  face  was  devoid  of  any  fine 
indications  of  sensibility,  of  reflection,  or  humorous 
perception  of  life.  The  upper  and  lower  maxillary 
bones  were  in  such  gaunt  relief  they  seemed  rather 
steel  girders  hung  to  support  a  granite  will.  The 
head  was  square,  sunk  rather  than  placed  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  the  line  of  the  head  at  the  back  was 
straight  and  full  of  crude  power.  He  had,  at  the 
same  time,  a  suggestion  in  the  shoulders  of  the  ob 
stinacy  of  the  buffalo,  the  most  distinctive  of  Amer 
ican  beasts,  and  in  the  eye-pits  of  the  fatalism  of  the 
Indian,  which  as  a  type  often  seems  not  so  much  the 
physical  tenacity  of  an  unexplained  race  as  it  does 
the  peculiar  impress  of  a  continent  and  an  atmosphere 
surcharged  with  vitality. 

The  eyes  were  a  clear  blue,  the  eyes  of  a  boy  in 
mischief  who  is  still  sublimely  defiant  of  the  tripping 
obstacles  of  an  ethical  code.  This  quality  of  the 
boy,  characteristic  too  of  the  American,  was  the  se 
cret  of  all  his  seeming  inconstancy  of  unrelenting 
cruelty  and  sudden  sentimental  impulsiveness.  Life 


4  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

was  to  him  a  huge  dare,  and  all  the  perils  of  finance 
the  hazards  of  a  monstrous  gamble,  which  alone 
were  able  to  supply  him  with  that  overwhelming 
quality  of  sensation  that  such  men  covet  in  life. 

A  waif  at  six;  a  wharf  rat  at  twelve,  endowed 
with  the  strength  of  a  man ;  leader  of  a  gang  at  six 
teen,  hated,  feared,  always  fighting;  gaining  his  first 
start  in  politics,  and  then,  by  making  a  lucky  strike 
in  the  silver  mines  of  Colorado,  educating  himself 
with  primitive  necessary  knowledge,  always  acquir 
ing,  never  relaxing  what  his  fingers  touched,  a  terri 
ble  antagonist,  risking  his  all  a  dozen  times  in  the 
hunger  for  a  greater  stake  —  he  had  emerged  at  last 
from  the  churning  vortex  of  a  brutal  struggle,  pos 
sessor  of  a  fortune  that  fifty  times  had  hung  on  the 
events  of  a  day.  For  five  years  he  had  been  involved 
in  countless  lawsuits,  accused  of  chicanery,  extortion, 
conspiracy,  and  even  murder.  At  the  end  of  which 
period  he  came  forth  victorious,  without  losing  a  sin 
gle  suit,  surrounded,  it  is  true,  by  every  calumny  that 
could  be  invented,  accused  of  manipulating  legisla 
tures,  corrupting  judges,  and  removing  witnesses. 

Through  it  all  he  had  remained  unshattered,  boy 
ishly  delighted,  his  body  unyielding  to  the  strain  of 
sleepless  nights  and  months  of  unrelenting  vigilance. 
He  had  lived  hard,  ready  to  gamble  for  a  thousand 
or  a  hundred  thousand,  cynically  announcing  his 
motto : 

"  No  friends.  So  long  as  every  man  is  my  enemy, 
I  am  safe." 

And  this  theory  of  life  he  had  carried  out  to  the 
minutest  detail.  Men  represented  to  him  simply  the 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  5 

male  of  the  species,  to  be  met  head  on,  to  strive  with 
and  overthrow.  So  completely  did  this  obsess  him 
that  no  one,  not  even  his  secretaries  (whom  he 
changed  constantly),  had  the  slightest  inkling  of  his 
plans.  Two  of  his  subordinates,  hoping  to  profit  by 
their  intimacy,  had  foolishly  invested  on  his  delib 
erately  given  tips  —  and  had  been  ruined.  After 
ward  he  cited  their  cases  as  a  warning  to  other  appli 
cants: 

From  the  start,  always  counting  on  the  year  ahead, 
he  had  outrun  his  income.  When  he  had  ten  thou 
sand,  he  was  spending  fifteen ;  at  fifty  thousand,  sev 
enty-five.  Every  one  who  came  in  contact  with  him 
was  paid  twice  over,  and  robbed  him  in  the  bargain 
—  a  fact  on  which  he  counted  and  to  which  he  was 
quite  indifferent. 

Coming  to  Wall  Street  in  that  period  of  fevered 
speculation,  he  had  been  among  the  first  to  perceive 
the  enormous  instruments  at  hand  in  the  development 
of  a  chain  of  trust  companies  which  would  supply  a 
conveniently  masked  agency  for  the  enormous  capi 
tal  that  he  needed  to  compete  on  equal  terms  with  the 
leaders  of  the  Street. 

That  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  was  confronted 
with  a  situation  of  absolute  and  impending  ruin, 
brought  him  not  the  slightest  depression,  but  rather 
that  exhilaration  and  sudden  clearness  of  mind  which 
is  characteristic  of  the  gambler  face  to  face  with  the 
supreme  hour  which  means  absolute  bankruptcy  or  a 
fortune. 

At  every  block  some  one  on  the  crowded  sidewalk, 
or  a  group  in  a  passing  carriage,  turned  with  a  hasty 


6  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

exclamation  at  the  sight  of  his  bulky  figure  under  the 
black  sombrero,  fleeing  in  the  red  automobile  that 
was  itself  at  this  period  a  rarity.  At  one  point  where 
a  blockade  compelled  him  to  halt,  a  newsboy,  jump 
ing  on  the  sideboard,  thrust  a  newspaper  in  his  face. 
He  flung  a  dime  and  glanced  at  the  headlines : 

MARKET  STILL  GOING  DOWN 

RUMORED   SUSPENSIONS 

Then  he  tossed  it  aside  and  returned  to  his  own 
calculations.  All  at  once  he  roused  himself  and  ad 
dressed  the  chauffeur : 

"  Harkness,  Mrs.  Braddon's.  Take  the  park." 
But  as  the  automobile,  turning  from  the  river,  de 
scended  by  way  of  green  woods,  he  began  restlessly 
to  repent  of  his  choice.  His  hatred  of  men  had 
made  him  strangely  dependent  on  women.  It  was 
not  that  they  were  able  to  establish  any  empire  over 
his  senses,  but  that  they  supplied  a  curious  outlet  to 
his  vanity.  At  times,  especially  as  in  the  present, 
when  he  felt  the  necessity  of  assembling  every  re 
source  to  meet  a  crisis,  it  became  absolutely  necessary 
for  him  to  find,  in  the  tribute  he  exacted  from  them, 
that  self-confidence  which  he  needed  to  override  other 
obstacles.  Often  he  would  take  in  his  automobile 
three  or  four  women  of  that  class  which  is  half  pro 
fessional,  half  of  the  world,  and,  running  slowly 
through  the  pleasant  country,  recount  stories  of  his 
early  struggles,  of  how  he  had  railroaded  an  enemy 
to  prison,  or  caught  an  adversary  in  a  turn  of  the 
market  and  broken  him.  And  when  these  tales  of 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  7 

unrelenting  enmity  made  his  audience  shudder,  he 
keenly  perceived  it,  and  enjoyed  almost  a  physical 
delight. 

But  this  afternoon,  as  the  car  came  to  a  stop  before 
one  of  the  great  apartment-houses  that  front  the 
park,  he  remained  seated,  unsatisfied  and  defrauded. 
It  was  not  a  woman  of  the  superficial  wit  of  Mrs. 
Braddon  who  could  occupy  and  stimulate  his  mind  in 
this  crisis. 

"  Drive  on/'  he  said  sharply.  "  Turn  the  corner 
and  stop  at  the  hotel." 

There  he  descended,  and  entering  went  to  the  tele 
phone. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair?"  he  said  eagerly,  a  moment  later. 

"Who  is  it,  please?" 

"  This  is  Slade  —  John  Slade.     I'm  coming  over." 

"  I  can't  see  you  now,"  said  a  voice  with  a  curious 
musical  quality  of  self-possession.  "  I  told  you  five 
o'clock." 

"  What  difference  does  half  an  hour  make?"  he 
said  impatiently. 

"  I  have  other  company.  You  will  have  to  be  pa 
tient.  At  five." 

The  connection  was  shut  off.  He  rose  angrily, 
unaccustomed  to  any  check  to  his  immediate  impulses. 
At  the  steps  a  boy  came  skipping  down  for  the  toll 
he  had  forgotten.  He  paid  the  exact  amount,  con 
trary  to  his  custom,  and  drove  his  body  back  into  the 
cushioned  seat. 

"  Where  to,  sir?"  said  Harkness,  turning. 

"  Anywhere,"  he  answered  gruffly,  and,  thwarted 
in  his  desire,  he  said  to  himself  furiously:  "That 


8  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

woman  always  opposes  me!  I  must  teach  her  a  les 
son.  I  won't  go  at  all." 

But  at  the  end  of  a  moment  he  pulled  out  his 
watch  impatiently  and  calculated  the  time. 

"  Home,"  he  said  suddenly. 

At  the  house,  he  ran  rapidly  through  the  opening 
doors  and  up  the  stairs  to  his  bedroom,  where  he  un 
locked  a  little  safe  fixed  in  the  wall  behind  a  tapestry 
that  hid  it,  and  took  out  a  tray  of  rings.  Sorting 
them  quickly,  with  a  low,  cynical  chuckle,  he  selected 
a  magnificent  ruby,  slipped  it  into  his  pocket,  closed 
the  safe,  and  passed  out  of  the  house  with  the  same 
rapidity  with  which  he  had  entered. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair's,  Harkness,"  he  said.  "  Drive  so 
as  to  get  me  there 'at  five-fifteen." 

"  Now  we  shall  see,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a 
smile,  gazing  at  the  ring  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  with 
a  man's  contemptuous  contemplation  of  the  stone 
which  could  hold  such  fascination  over  a  woman's 
soul.  For  him  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  as  a  first 
step  toward  his  conquest  of  all  his  enemies,  to  feel 
his  power  over  this  one  present  resistance. 

The  idea  that  had  come  into  his  head  restored  his 
good  humor  and  aroused  in  him  a  certain  joy  of  en 
ergy.  He  had  forgot  momentarily  his  errand,  ab 
sorbed  in  his  own  battle  for  existence. 

"  Today  is  Thursday,"  he  said,  with  renewed  en 
ergy.  "  Next  Wednesday  will  be  the  crisis.  I  must 
find  out  what  Majendie  is  going  to  do.  Snelling's 
the  man  to  know  —  or  Garraboy." 

The  car  stopped.  He  sprang  out  and,  without 
giving  his  name,  entered  the  elevator.  At  the  apart- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  9 

ment  a  Japanese  servant  took  his  things  and  ushered 
him  into  the  low-lit  greens  of  the  studio,  which  ran 
the  height  of  the  two  floors  that  formed  the  duplex 
apartment. 

Mrs.  Rita  Kildair  was  stretched  on  a  low  Recamier 
sofa,  watching  him  with  amused  eyes  as  he  entered 
with  that  atmosphere  of  strife  and  fury  that  seemed 
always  to  play  about  him.  She  waited  until  he  had 
come  to  her  side  before  she  raised  her  hand  to  his, 
in  a  gesture  that  had  no  animation,  saying : 

"How  do  you  do ?" 

Something  in  the  tranquil,  amused  self-possession 
of  her  pose  made  him  stupidly  repeat  the  question. 
Then,  forgetting  his  resolve  to  show  no  impatience, 
he  said  impetuously : 

"  Why  did  you  keep  me  waiting?  " 

"  Because  I  did  not  wish  to  see  your  highness 
then." 

"Not  dressed?" 

"  No,  I  was  simply  amusing  myself  with  a  very 
nice  boy." 

"Who?" 

She  smiled,  and,  without  heed  to  his  question,  mo 
tioned  him  to  a  chair  with  a  little  gesture,  not  of  her 
arm,  but  of  her  fingers,  on  which  she  wore  several 
rings  of  unusual  luster.  She  had,  as  a  woman,  that 
same  magnetic  self-consciousness  that  distinguishes 
the  great  actress,  aware  that  every  eye  is  focused  on 
her  and  that  the  slightest  change  of  her  hand  or  shift 
of  her  head  has  an  instantaneous  importance. 

Slade  obeyed  her  with  a  sudden  sense  of  warm 
content. 


10  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Smoke  ?  "  he  said,  taking  out  a  cigar.  "  Per 
mission?  " 

He  helped  himself  to  a  match,  sunk  himself  in  the 
great  chair,  crossed  his  legs,  and  looked  at  hen 

Rita  Kildair  gave  that  complex  appearance  of  a 
woman  much  younger  than  she  seemed,  or  of  a 
woman  much  older.  She  was  at  that  mental  phase 
in  her  life  when  she  exhaled  to  the  fullest  that  per 
fume  of  mystery  which  is  the  most  feminine  and  irre 
sistible  of  all  the  powers  that  a  woman  exerts  over 
the  masculine  imagination,  if  indeed  it  is  not  the  sum 
of  all  seductions.  The  inexplicable  in  her  own  life 
and  individuality  was  heightened  in  every  way  by  the 
subservience  of  outward  things,  whether  by  calcula 
tion  or  by  an  instinctive  sense  of  interpretation. 

The  great  studio,  to  the  neglect  of  the  electric 
chandelier,  was  lit  by  half  a  dozen  candles,  which 
flung  about  conflicting  eddies  of  wavering  lights  and 
shadows.  In  farther  corners  were  a  divan,  a  piano, 
a  portrait  on  an  easel,  lounges,  waiting  like  so  many 
shadows  to  be  called  forth.  A  standing  lamp,  not 
too  near,  bathed  the  couch  on  which  she  lay  with  a 
softened  luster.  Her  tea-gown  of  liberty  silk,  with 
tones  that  changed  and  mingled  with  each  other,  was 
of  the  purple  of  the  grape,  an  effect  produced,  too, 
by  the  superimposition  of  one  filmy  garment  on  the 
other.  A  slippered  foot  and  ankle  came  forth  from 
the  fragrant  disorder  of  the  skirt,  either  by  studied 
arrangement  or  by  the  impulse  of  a  woman  who  is 
confident  of  all  her  poses.  Her  nose,  quite  the  most 
individual  feature,  was  aquiline,  yet  not  such  as  is 
associated  with  a  masculine  character.  Rather,  it 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  11 

was  vitally  sensitive,  and  gave,  in  conjunction  with 
the  intent  and  instantaneous  aspect  of  her  grayish 
eyes,  the  instinctive,  almost  savage  appetite  for  pos 
session  and  sensation  that  is  characteristic  of  her  sex. 

No  one  looked  at  her  without  asking  himself  a 
question.  Those  who  believed  her  under  thirty  won 
dered  at  the  experiences  that  must  have  crowded  in 
upon  her.  Those  who  believed  her  nearer  forty  still 
marveled  at  her  mastery  over  youth.  Those  of  an 
analytical  mind  left  her  always  with  a  feeling  of 
speculation  framed  in  two  questions  —  whence  had 
she  come  and  where  would  she  end  ? 

It  was  this  latter  speculation  more  than  any  other 
that  absorbed  Slade,  irresistibly  intrigued  by  the  elu- 
siveness  of  a  fascination  which  he  could  not  analyze. 
She  endured  his  fixed  glance  without  annoyance,  ab 
sorbed,  too,  in  the  thoughts  which  his  entrance  had 
brought  her.  Finally,  adapting  her  manner  to  his, 
she  said  with  his  own  abruptness : 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  say  to  me?  " 

"  I'm  wondering  what  you  are  after  in  this  life, 
pretty  lady  ?  "  he  said  directly. 

"  What  do  you  want?  " 

"  Power." 

"  Not  to  be  bored." 

They  smiled  by  common  consent. 

"  And  now  we  know  no  more  than  we  did  before," 
he  said. 

She  stretched  out  her  slender  hand  against  the 
purple  folds  of  her  gown,  and  her  eyes  lingered  on 
the  jewels  that  she  held  caressingly  before  them  —  a 
look  that  did  not  escape  the  man. 


12  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  By  thunder,  you're  the  strangest  thing  I've  run 
into,"  he  said,  shifting  his  legs. 

"  On  each  of  the  eight  times  we  have  been  alone," 
she  said,  smiling,  "  you  have  made  precisely  that  same 
discovery.  Did  you  forget  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  know  something  about  you,"  he  said. 

"  How  old  I  am  —  about  my  husband  —  what  I 
am  doing  here  —  am  I  rich  — what's  my  past  —  and 
so  on.  Consider  all  these  questions  asked  and  re 
fused  —  for  the  ninth  time.  And  now,  what  —  why 
did  you  come  here?  " 

He  put  aside  his  cigar  impatiently,  propelled  him 
self  to  his  feet,  and  came  forward  until  his  knee 
touched  the  couch.  She  looked  up,  pleasantly  aware 
of  so  much  brute  strength  held  in  leash  above  her. 

"  Sit  down." 

And,  as  he  remained  standing,  she  took  a  little 
electric  button  attached  to  a  coil  that  was  on  the 
couch,  and  pressed  it.  In  the  hall  outside  a  buzz  was 
heard,  and  then  the  soft,  sliding  step  of  Kiki. 

"  Tea  ?  "  she  said,  turning  to  him  with  an  amused 
look,  the  little  button  pressed  against  her  thin,  sharp 
row  of  teeth,  that  were  clear  and  tiny  as  a  child's. 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  he  said  furiously. 

"  No  tea,  Kiki,"  she  said,  in  that  same  round,  mu 
sical  tone  from  which  she  seldom  varied.  She  held 
the  button  in  her  long  fingers,  caressing  her  cheek 
with  it,  and,  looking  at  him  with  half-closed  eyes,  re 
peated  : 

"  Sit  down." 

Though  the  forward  movement  of  Slade  had  been 
unconscious  and  quite  devoid  of  any  personal  object, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  13 

he  was  angrily  aware  that  she  had  availed  herself  of 
his  action  to  introduce  a  tantalizing  defiance  which 
awakened  all  the  savage  in  him,  as  he  realized  the 
helplessness  of  his  crude  strength  before  the  raillery 
that  shone  from  her  eyes. 

He  drew  his  chair  closer  to  her,  sat  down  on  its 
edge,  one  knee  forward,  his  chin  in  his  hand  half 
concealing  his  face,  looking  at  her  with  the  shrewd 
cruelty  of  a  prosecuting  attorney. 

"  What's  your  game?  "  he  said. 

"  The  game  itself,"  she  answered,  with  a  little  ani 
mation  in  her  eyes  and  a  scarcely  perceptible,  gradual 
turning  of  her  whole  body  toward  him. 

"  What's  your  game  ?  "  he  repeated. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  as  she  might  have 
looked  at  a  child,  and  then,  imitating  the  gesture  with 
which  he  had  sunk  his  chin  in  his  palm,  said : 

"  What  a  convenient  formula !  And  is  that  the 
way  you  always  begin?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  "  it  is  extraordi 
nary  how  simple  you  big  men  —  you  trust  kings  — 
are.  You  have  the  vision  of  an  eagle  on  one  side, 
and  the  groping  glance  of  a  baby  when  you  deal 
with  us.  Sometimes  I  think  that  it's  all  instinct,  that 
all  you  understand  is  to  throw  down  what  resists 
you  —  that  you  haven't  great  minds  at  all,  and  that 
that  is  all  that  interests  you  in  business  and  in  us. 
That  is  why  a  big  man  will  always  end  up  by  meet 
ing  some  little  woman  who  will  lead  him  around  by 
the  nose.  Any  little  fool  of  a  woman  who  knows 
enough  never  to  cease  resisting  you  can  do  it." 


14  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Do  you  like  me  ?  "  he  said  brutally. 

"  Yes." 

"Much?" 

"  Quite  a  good  deal." 

"  Are  you  planning  to  marry  me  ?  " 

She  smiled  her  languid,  amused  smile  without  shift 
ing  her  glance  from  his. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  the  point?  "  she  said. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  don't  have  to  ask  your  game ;  I  know  it." 

"What  do  you  know?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  why  you  came  here  at  a  moment 
when  you  are  at  bay,  attacked  everywhere?  " 

"Why?" 

"  To  find  out  what  I  know  about  Majendie." 

"  Do  you  know  anything?  " 

"  He  is  coming  here  tonight,"  she  said. 

"  No,  that  is  not  it,"  he  said  scornfully,  rising  and 
again  approaching  her.  "  You  know  better.  You 
exhilarate  me  —  you  wake  me  up ;  and  I  need  to  be 
stimulated.  So  you've  got  it  back  in  your  little  brain 
to  marry  me,"  he  said,  looking  down  with  amused 
contemplation  at  the  reclining  figure,  that  was  not 
so  much  human  as  a  perfumed  bed  of  flowers; 
"  that  is,  if  I  pull  through  and  keep  my  head  above 
water." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"  Why  did  you  keep  me  waiting  ?  Just  to  annoy 
me?" 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  looking  up  from  under  her 
eyelashes  at  his  towering  figure.  "  Perhaps  it  was 
to  teach  you  some  things  are  difficult." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  15 

"That's  it,  eh?" 

"  Perhaps  —  and  I'm  afraid  I  shall  irritate  you 
many  more  times." 

He  took  a  step  nearer  and  said  abruptly : 

"  Look  out!     I  don't  play  fair." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  she  said. 

She  took  the  button  up  again,  frowning  in  a  non 
chalant  way,  and  held  it  a  moment  while  she  waited 
for  his  decision.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
stood  back,  taking  several  steps  toward  the  center  of 
the  room. 

"  Listen,  John  G.  Slade,"  she  said,  her  tone  chang 
ing  from  the  felinely  feminine  to  the  matter-of-fact, 
"  don't  let's  continue  as  children  .  You  are  no  match 
for  me  at  this  game.  I  warn  you.  Come.  Be  di 
rect.  Will  you  have  me  as  an  ally?  " 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her,  considering. 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Is  it  of  importance  to  you  to  know  the  probable 
fate  of  Majendie  and  the  Atlantic  Trust?  " 

"  Yes  —  in  a  way." 

"  I  may  have  means  of  learning  just  that  informa 
tion  tonight." 

"  What  do  you  want  in  return  ?  " 

"  Full  confidence.  I  want  two  questions  an 
swered." 

"What?" 

She  had  raised  herself  to  a  sitting  position  out  of 
the  languor  which  was  not  the  indolence  of  the  Ori 
ental,  but  rather  the  volcanic  slumbering  of  the  Slav, 
always  ready  to  break  forth  into  sudden  tremendous 
exertion. 


16  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Can  the  Associated  Trust  meet  its  Wednesday 
obligations  without  assistance  ?  " 

"  And  second  ?  "  he  said,  amazed  at  the  detailed 
knowledge  that  her  question  implied. 

"  Second,  if  it  can't,  will  the  Clearing-house  help 
it  through?" 

"  What  difference  to  you  would  it  make  to  know?  " 

"  It  would." 

"  How  long  have  you  known  Bernard  Maj  en- 
die?  "  he  said  slowly. 

She  accepted  the  question  as  a  rebuff. 

"  There  are  my  terms,"  she  said,  sinking  back  on 
the  couch.  "  You  don't  wish  an  ally,  then?  " 

"  No." 

"You  don't  trust  me?" 

"  No." 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't,"  she  said  indolently ;  "  and 
yet,  I  could  help  you  more  than  you  think." 

"  I  trusted  a  man  once,"  he  said  scornfully.  "  I 
have  never  made  that  mistake  with  a  woman." 

"  As  you  wish." 

"Are  you  trying  a  flyer?"  he  said,  smiling. 
"That's  the  game,  is  it  —  a  tip?" 

"  I  have  told  you,"  she  said  coldly  and  in  a  tone 
that  carried  conviction,  "  that  what  interests  me  is 
to  win  the  game  itself,  the  excitement  and  the  perils. 
And  I  have  been  behind  the  scenes  many  times." 

"  I  believe  it,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  I  should  like 
to  hear  — " 

"  I  am  a  woman  who  keeps  the  secrets  of  others 
and  her  own,"  she  answered,  interrupting  his  ques 
tion. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  17 

"  And  if  you  marry?  "  he  said  curiously. 

"  Even  then."  She  dismissed  the  return  to  the 
personal  with  the  first  quick  movement  of  her  hand 
and  continued :  "  I  should  say,  you  are  the  best  hated 
man  in  Wall  Street." 

"  That's  not  exactly  inside  information." 

"  No  one  is  going  to  come  to  your  help  out  of 
friendship." 

"  True." 

"If  Majendie  and  the  Atlantic  Trust  Company 
fail,  nothing  in  this  world  can  pull  you  through,"  she 
said,  seeking  in  some  uncontrolled  movement  of  his 
an  answer  to  the  statement  that  was  in  reality  a 
question. 

From  the  moment  she  had  begun  to  question  him, 
he  experienced  a  sudden  change.  He  was  no  longer 
dealing  with  a  woman,  but  with  an  element  he  had 
outguessed  a  hundred  times. 

All  at  once  an  odd  idea  came  to  him  which  struck 
him  as  stupendously  ridiculous,  and  yet  made  him 
glower  in  covert  admiration  at  the  woman  who 
watched  him  while  seemingly  engaged  with  the  re 
arrangement  of  her  draperies. 

"  Is  it  possible,  after  all,"  he  thought,  "  that  that 
ambitious  little  head  is  playing  with  both  Majendie 
and  me,  and  that  she  is  setting  her  cap  for  the  sur 
vivor?  " 

He  came  back,  reseated  himself,  and  said,  with  an 
appearance  of  candor  which  would  have  deceived 
most  people : 

"  You  say  Majendie  is  coming  here  tonight?  " 

"Yes." 


18  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is  this  afternoon?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  the  object  of  his  visit?  " 

"  The  object  is  easy  to  guess,"  she  said  indiffer 
ently.  "  You  know  perfectly  well  that  he  is  in  con 
ference  with  Fontaine,  Marx,  and  Gunther,  and  what 
you  wish  to  know  is  whether  they  are  going  to  stand 
aside  and  let  him  sink.  Are  you  ready  to  answer  my 
two  questions  ?  " 

"  And  when  will  you  know  if  he  has  failed  or  suc 
ceeded?" 

"  Tonight." 

"He  will  tell  you?" 

"  I  shall  know  tonight,"  she  said,  with  an  evasive 
smile. 

"  What's  your  private  opinion?  " 

"  They  will  come  to  his  assistance,"  she  said  care 
fully. 

"  Because  they  are  his  personal  friends,"  he  said, 
with  an  accent  of  raillery. 

"  Naturally." 

"  You  believe  Majendie  will  pull  through?  " 

"  I  do."  She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  asked 
the  question,  not  so  much  to  receive  an  answer  as  to 
judge  from  his  manner:  "  Can  the  Associated  Trust 
meet  its  obligations  on  Wednesday  without  assist 
ance?" 

"  I  can,"  he  said  quietly,  and  to  himself  he  added : 
"  There  —  if  Majendie  has  set  her  to  pump  me,  little 
good  that'll  do  him." 

"  But  if  the  Atlantic  Trust  Company  shuts  its 
doors,"  she  persisted,  "  you  are  caught?  " 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  19 

"  That  is  the  general  opinion." 

"Will  you  fail?" 

"  No." 

She  was  quiet  a  moment,  dissatisfied,  looked  away 
from  him  and  then  said : 

"  So  you  don't  care  to  know  what  I  shall  learn  to 
night?" 

"  My  dear  lady,  I  won't  tell  you  a  thing,"  he  said, 
with  a  laugh,  "  so  stop  trying.  Leave  us  to  fight  our 
own  battles.  Plot  all  you  want  in  your  cunning  head 
your  little  feminine  plans,  but  don't  get  beyond  your 
depth." 

"  I  see  you  believe  I'm  interested  in  Majendie,"  she 
said,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  "  You  are  not 
very  well  informed." 

"  No,"  he  said  bluntly;  "you  are  interested  in  no 
©ne  but  Rita  Kildair.  I  know  that  much."  He  rose, 
took  several  strides  back  and  forth,  and,  returning, 
stood  by  her.  "  I  hate  allies,"  he  said ;  "  I  prefer  to 
consider  you  as  a  woman." 

His  remark  brought  a  sharp  gleam  of  curiosity  to 
her  eyes,  a  spark  of  instinctive  sex  antagonism  that 
flashed  and  disappeared. 

"  Remember,  I  have  warned  you,"  she  said,  retir 
ing  as  abruptly  into  the  feline  languor  of  her  pose. 

He  stood,  swayed  by  two  emotions,  the  purely 
gentle,  almost  caressing  effect  her  indolence  brought 
him,  and  the  desire  to  establish  some  sudden  empire 
over  her  —  to  feel  his  strength  above  hers. 

"  What's  the  weak  point  in  your  armor  ?  "  he  said 
savagely. 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  you." 


20  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  think  I  know  one." 

"  Really  ?" 

He  drew  his  chair  still  closer,  and,  leaning  over, 
touched  with  his  stubby  forefinger  the  rings  on  her 
outstretched  hand. 

"  Jewels  ?  "  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Yes." 

"  Any  woman  is  the  same." 

"Why?" 

"  I  don't  know  —  it  is  so,"  she  said,  and,  raising 
the  deep  lusters,  she  allowed  her  glance  to  rest  on 
them  as  in  a  dream  of  opium. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  the  ring  with  the  ruby, 
and  held  it  out. 

"  Try  this  on." 

She  took  it  between  her  finger-tips  slowly,  looking 
at  him  with  a  glance  that  was  a  puzzled  frown,  and 
slipped  it  on  her  finger.  Then  she  extended  her  hand 
gradually  to  the  full  length  of  her  white  arm  against 
the  purple,  and  half  closed  her  eyes.  There  was  no 
outward  sign;  only  a  deep  breath  went  through  her, 
as  though  an  immense  change  had  taken  place  in  the 
inner  woman. 

"  Now  I  know  what  I  want  to  know,"  he  said, 
watching  her  closely  with  almost  an  animal  joy  in 
this  sudden  revelation  of  an  appetite  in  her. 

"It's  a  wonderful  stone,"  she  said  in  a  whisper; 
then  she  drew  it  off  slowly,  as  though  the  flesh  re 
belled,  and  held  it  out  to  him,  turning  away  her 
eyes. 

"  Keep  it." 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  You  are  cleverer  than  I  thought,"  she  said. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  21 

"  Keep  it." 

"Is  this  for  information  about  Majendie?"  she 
said  slowly. 

"  Not  for  that." 

"For  what,  then?"  she  said  steadily. 

"  For  a  whim." 

"  Thanks ;  I  don't  trust  your  whims." 

For  all  reply,  he  took  her  hand  and  again  placed 
the  ring  on  it. 

"  Wear  it,"  he  said. 

She  turned  the  stone  quickly  inside  her  palm  as 
though  unable  to  endure  its  lure,  and  looked  at  him 
profoundly. 

"  Are  you  going  to  pull  through?"  she  said  an 
grily. 

'*  Will  it  make  a  difference  ? "  he  asked,  rising, 
with  a  quick  glance  at  his  watch. 

She  rose  in  her  turn,  facing  him  with  a  sudden 
energy. 

"  Do  you  know  the  one  great  mistake  you  have 
made?" 

"What?" 

"  You  have  condemned  yourself  to  success." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  he  said. 

"  You  must  always  succeed,  and  that  is  terrible ! 
At  the  first  defeat  every  one  will  be  up  in  arms  against 
you  —  because  every  one  wants  to  see  you  ruined." 

"  Every  one  ?  "  he  said,  looking  in  her  eyes. 

A  second  time  she  took  off  the  ring  and  gave  it  to 
him,  and  as  he  protested  she  said  coldly : 

"  Don't  make  me  angry.  The  comedy  has  been 
amusing.  Enough.  Also,  don't  trouble  yourself 


22  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

about  my  motives.  I  haven't  the  slightest  intention 
of  marrying  you  or  any  one  else." 

And  she  accompanied  the  words  with  a  gesture 
so  imperative  that,  amazed  at  the  change,  he  no  longer 
insisted.  As  he  put  out  his  hand,  she  said  suddenly, 
as  if  obeying  an  intuition: 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  you  want  to  know.  Gun- 
ther  is  almost  sure  to  come  to  Majendie's  aid.  I 
know  it  by  a  woman.  Take  care  of  yourself. " 

"  And  I  will  tell  you  exactly  the  opposite,"  he  said, 
bluffing.  "  Gunther  will  not  lend  a  cent;  Majendie 
will  go  under,  and  I'll  pull  through." 

"  You'll  pull  through  even  if  the  Atlantic  Trust 
closes?" 

"  Exactly." 

"  Good-by,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug. 

"  Remember  what  I  said,"  he  repeated,  and  went 
out. 

Five  minutes  later  the  bell  rang,  and  Kiki  brought 
her  a  little  box  and  an  envelope.  She  recognized 
Slade's  writing,  and  read: 

DEAR  LADY, 

Apologies  for  my  rudeness.  If  you  won't  accept  a  gift, 
at  least  wear  the  ring  for  a  week.  I  should  like  to  know 
what  effect  it  could  have  on  your  cold  little  soul.  Oblige 
my  curiosity.  It's  only  a  little  reparation  for  the  disap 
pointment  I  gave  you.  J.  G.  S. 

"  Decidedly,  he  is  cleverer  than  I  thought,"  she 
said  musingly.  In  the  box  was  the  great  ruby  ring. 
She  took  it  up,  examined  it  carefully,  made  a  mo 
tion  as  though  to  replace  it  in  the  box,  and  then  sud 
denly  slipped  it  on  her  finger. 


CHAPTER  II 

MRS.  KILDAIR  knew  pretty  nearly  every  one 
in  that  indescribable  society  in  New  York 
which  is  drawn  from  all  levels,  without  classification, 
and  imposes  but  one  condition  for  membership  —  to 
be  amusing.  Her  home,  in  fact,  supplied  that  need 
of  all  limited  and  contending  superimposed  sets,  a 
central  meeting-ground  where  one  entered  under  the 
protection  of  a  flag  of  truce  and  departed  without 
obligation.  She  knew  every  one,  and  no  one  knew 
her.  No  one  knew  beyond  the  vaguest  rumors  her 
history  or  her  resources.  No  one  had  ever  met  a  Mr. 
Kildair.  There  was  always  about  her  a  certain  de 
fensive  reserve  the  moment  the  limit  of  acquaint 
anceship  had  been  touched.  Mrs.  Enos  Bloodgood, 
who  saw  her  most  and  gave  her  the  fullest  confidence, 
knew  no  more  than  that  she  had  arrived  from  Paris 
five  years  before,  with  letters  of  introduction  from 
the  best  quarters.  Her  invitations  were  eagerly 
sought  by  leaders  of  fashionable  society,  prima  don 
nas,  artists,  visiting  European  aristocrats,  and  men 
of  the  moment.  Her  dinners  were  spontaneous,  and 
the  discussions,  though  gay  and  usually  daring,  were 
invariably  under  the  control  of  wit  and  good  taste. 

As  soon  as  Slade's  present  had  been  received  she 
passed  into  the  dining-room  to  assure  herself  that 
everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  informal  chafing- 
dish  supper  to  which  she  had  invited  some  of  her 

23 


^4  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

most  congenial  friends,  all  of  whom,  as  much  as 
could  be  said  of  any  one,  were  habitues  of  the  studio. 
Then,  entering  her  Louis  Quinze  bedroom,  which  ex 
haled  a  pleasant  stirring  atmosphere  of  perfume,  she 
slipped  off  her  filmy  purple  tea-gown  and  chose  an 
evening  robe  of  absolute  black,  of  warm  velvet,  un 
relieved  by  any  color,  but  which  gave  to  her  shoul 
ders  and  arms  that  softness  and  brilliancy  which  no 
color  can  impart. 

Several  times  she  halted,  and,  seating  herself  at 
her  dressing-table,  fell  into  a  fascinated  contempla 
tion  of  the  great  ruby  that  trembled  luminously  on 
her  finger  like  a  bubble  of  scarlet  blood.  When,  in 
the  act  of  deftly  ordering  the  masses  of  her  dark 
ruddy  hair,  her  white  fingers  lost  themselves  among 
the  tresses,  she  stopped  more  than  once,  entranced  at 
the  brilliancy  of  the  stone  against  the  white  flesh  and 
the  sudden  depths  of  her  hair. 

She  rose  and  began  to  move  about  the  room;  but 
her  hand  from  time  to  time  continued  its  coquetries 
above  her  forehead,  as  though  the  ring  had  suddenly 
added  to  her  feminine  treasury  a  new  instinctive 
gesture. 

At  half-past  seven,  having  finished  dressing,  she 
opened  the  doors  which  made  a  thoroughfare  between 
the  studio  and  the  small  dining-room,  and  passed 
into  the  larger  room,  where,  at  one  end,  Kiki  had 
brought  forth  three  Sheraton  tables,  joined  them,  and 
set  them  with  crystal  and  silver. 

"  Put  in  order  my  bedroom,"  she  said,  with  an  ap 
proving  nod,  "  and  then  you  can  go." 

She  moved  about  the  studio,  studying  the  arrange- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  25 

ments  of  the  furniture,  seeing  always  from  the  tail 
of  her  eye  the  scarlet  spot  on  her  ringer. 

"  I  wonder  what  it's  worth,"  she  said  softly. 
"  Ten,  fifteen  thousand  at  the  least."  She  held 
the  ring  from  her,  gazed  at  it  dreamily.  "  I  wonder 
what  woman's  eye  has  looked  upon  you,  you  wonder 
ful  gem,"  she  whispered;  and,  as  though  transported 
with  the  vision  of  the  past,  she  drew  it  slowly  toward 
her  and  pressed  her  lips  against  it. 

At  this  moment  a  buzz  sounded  from  the  hall,  and 
she  recovered  herself  hastily  and,  a  little  ashamed, 
said  with  a  feeling  of  alarm  as  she  went  to  the  door : 

"  Slade  is  entirely  too  clever ;  I  must  send  it  back 
tomorrow  morning." 

Before  she  could  reach  the  door  it  had  opened, 
and  there  entered,  with  the  informality  of  assured 
acquaintance,  a  young  man  of  twenty-five  or  -six, 
smiling,  boyish,  delighted  at  having  stolen  a  march 
on  the  other  guests. 

"  You  are  early,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  smiling  with 
instinctive  reflection  of  the  roguish  enjoyment  that 
shone  on  his  handsome,  confident  face. 

"  Heavens,  haven't  I  been  beating  the  pavements 
for  fourteen  minutes  by  the  watch ! "  he  said,  laugh 
ing.  "  Regular  kid  trick."  He  took  her  hand, 
carrying  it  to  his  lips.  "  The  way  they  do  in  France, 
you  know." 

'  You're  a  nice  boy,  Teddy,"  she  said,  patting  his 
hand.  "  Now,  hang  up  your  coat,  and  help  me  with 
the  candles." 

She  watched  him  as  he  slipped  his  overcoat  from 
the  trim  wide  shoulders,  revealing  all  at  once  the 


26  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

clean-cut,  well-tailored  figure,  full  of  elasticity  and 
youth.  Teddy  Beecher  always  gave  her  a  sense  of 
well-being  and  pleasant  content,  with  his  harum- 
scarum  ways  and  inviting  impudence.  As  he  roused 
no  intellectual  resistance  in  her,  she  was  all  the  more 
sensitive  to  the  purely  physical  charm  in  him,  which 
she  appreciated  as  she  might  appreciate  the  finely 
strung  body  and  well-modulated  limbs  of  a  Perseus 
by  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

"  Will  I  help  you  ?  Command  me,"  he  said,  com 
ing  in  eagerly.  "  Don't  you  know,  there's  a  little 
silver  collar  about  my  neck,  and  the  inscription  is, 
'  This  dog  belongs  to  Rita  Kildair.'  Jove,  Rita,  but 
you're  stunning  tonight !  " 

He  stood  stock-still  in  frank  amazement.  He  had 
known  her  but  a  short  while,  and  yet  he  called  her 
by  her  first  name  —  a  liberty  seldom  accorded ;  but 
the  charm  he  unconsciously  exerted  over  women, 
and  which  impatiently  mystified  other  men,  was  in 
the  very  audacity  of  his  enjoyment  of  life,  which  im 
parted  to  women  the  precious  sense  of  their  own 
youth. 

"  Really  ?  "  she  said,  raising  her  hand  to  her  hair, 
that  he  might  notice  the  glorious  ruby. 

"  Look  here  —  I've  only  got  a  miserable  thirty 
thousand  a  year,  but  I've  got  a  couple  of  uncles  with 
liver  trouble  and  a  bum  heart.  Say  the  word  — 
I'm  yours." 

While  he  said  it  with  a  mock-heroic  air,  there  was 
in  his  eyes  a  flash  of  excited  admiration  that  she 
understood  and  was  well  pleased  with. 

"  Come,   Teddy,"  she  said,  a  little  disappointed 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  27 

that  he  did  not  perceive  the  ring.     "  To  work.    Take 
this  taper." 

He  took  the  wax,  contriving  to  touch  her  ringers 
with  feigned  artlessness. 

"I  say,  Rita,  who's  the  mob  here  tonight?  Do 
I  know  any  one?  I  get  the  place  next  to  you,  of 
course?  " 

"  Begin  over  there,"  she  directed.  "  The  Enos 
Bloodgoods  are  coming;  you've  met  her  here." 

"  I  thought  they  were  separated,  or  something." 

"  Not  yet." 

"  By  George,  Rita,  there's  no  one  like  you  —  serv 
ing  us  up  a  couple  on  the  verge." 

"  That  is  not  all  —  I  like  situations,"  she  said,  with 
her  slow  smile. 

"  I  like  Elise  ;  but  as  for  the  old  boy,  he  can  slip 
on  a  banana  peel  and  break  his  neck,  for  all  I  care." 

"  Then  there's  a  broker,  Garraboy,  Elise's 
brother." 

"  Don't  know  him." 

"  Maud  Lille,  who's  written  clever  books  —  a  jour 
nalist." 

"  Don't  know  her  —  hate  clever  women." 

"  Nan  Charters  —  " 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Beecher,  with  upraised  wick. 
Nan  Charters,  who  played  in  '  Monsieur  Beau- 


care.'  " 


Bully!" 

She  smiled  at  his  impetuousness,  and  continued: 
"Mr.  Majendie  and  the  Stanley  Cheevers." 
"  Oh,  I  say  —  not  those  —  " 
"Well?"  she  said  as  he  stopped. 


&S  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  You  know  the  gambling  story/'  he  said  reluc 
tantly. 

"  Club  gossip." 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  correcting  himself.;  "One 
of  my  friends  was  present.  The  Cheevers  play  a 
good  game,  a  well-united  game,  and  have  an  unusual 
system  of  makes.  They  are  very  successful  —  let 
it  go  at  that.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  Majen- 
die'll  be  here?" 

"  I  expect  him." 

"  He  was  a  friend  of  the  dad's  —  a  corker,  too. 
I  don't  know  much  about  those  things,  but  isn't  he 
supposed  to  be  up  against  it?  " 

Three  knocks  in  close  succession  sounded  on  the 
outer  door,  and  Garraboy  entered  with  an  air  of 
familiarity  that  was  displeasing  to  the  younger  man. 
The  two  saluted  impertinently,  with  polite  antag 
onism,  detesting  each  other  from  the  first  look. 

"  Go  on  with  the  candles,  Teddy,"  said  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair,  signaling  to  the  newcomer,  a  young  man  of 
forty  who  seemed  to  have  been  born  bald,  wrin 
kled,  and  heavy-eyed.  The  long,  bald  head  on  the 
thin,  straight  little  body,  and  the  elongated  white 
collar,  gave  him  somewhat  the  look  of  an  interroga 
tion-mark.  He  was  heavily  perfumed. 

"What's  the  news  of  the  market?"  she  asked. 

"  Another  odd  turn  —  went  up  a  couple  of  points," 
he  said,  looking  at  her  hand.  Unlike  Beecher,  he 
had  instantly  noted  the  new  acquisition  with  a  ma 
licious  smile.  His  thumb  gave  a  little  jerk  and  he 
added  softly:  "Something  new?" 

"  Yes.     Why  should  the  market  go  up?  "  she  said, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  29 

seeming  to  be  intent  only  on  the  effect  of  the  brac 
keted  candles,  that  now  licked  the  tapestried  walls 
with  their  restless  tongues. 

"  There's  a  general  belief  that  a  group  of  the  big 
fellows  will  stand  behind  the  trust  companies  in  re 
turn  for  certain  concessions.  I  say,"  he  continued, 
watching  the  ruby  ring,  which  instinctively  she  tried 
to  conceal  from  him,  "  I  hope  Elise  isn't  going  to 
make  a  fool  of  herself  about  Majendie." 

"  Teddy,  Teddy,  you've  forgotten  the  two  over 
the  plaque ! "  she  said  aloud  —  and,  a  little  lower : 
"She  won't;  don't  fear." 

"  I  know  her  better,"  he  said,  without,  however, 
betraying  the  slightest  brotherly  agitation.  "  She  is 
apt  to  do  something  crazy  if  anything  went  wrong 
with  Majendie.  Bloodgood's  a  hard-skinned  old 
brute,  but  if  there  was  anything  public  he'd  cut  up 
ugly." 

"  I  hear  he's  in  the  market." 

"Yes  —  on  the  short  side,  too  —  in  deep." 

"And  you?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  thought  we  never  told  secrets,  Mrs.  Kildair. 
Who  else  is  coming?  Am  I  representing  the  ele 
ment  of  respectability  again  tonight?" 

"The  what?"  She  looked  at  him  steadily  until 
he  turned  away  nervously,  with  the  unease  of  an 
animal.  "  Don't  be  an  ass  with  me,  my  dear  Gar- 
raboy." 

"  By  George,"  he  said  irritably,  "  if  this  were  Eu 
rope  I'd  wager  you  were  in  the  Secret  Service,  Mrs. 
Kildair." 


SO  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  smiling  appreciatively,  and 
returned  toward  young  Beecher,  who  was  waiting 
by  the  piano  with  ill-concealed  resentment. 

The  Stanley  Cheevers  entered  —  a  short,  chubby 
man  with  a  bleached,  vacant  face  tufted  with  mus 
tache  and  imperial,  devoid  of  eyebrows,  with  watery 
eyes  that  moved  slowly  with  the  motion  of  his  gourd- 
like  head;  Mrs.  Cheever,  voluble,  nervous,  over 
dressed,  young  with  the  youth  of  a  child  and  pretty 
with  the  prettiness  of  a  doll. 

Beecher,  who  knew  them,  bowed  with  a  sense  of 
curiosity  to  Mrs.  Cheever,  who  held  him  a  little  with 
a  certain  trick  she  had  of  opening  wide  her  dark, 
Oriental  eyes ;  and  dropped,  with  a  sense  of  physical 
discomfort,  the  hand  that  Cheever  flabbily  pressed 
into  his. 

"  Decidedly,  I  am  going  to  have  a  grand  little  time 
by  myself/'  he  said  moodily.  "  Where  the  deuce 
does  Rita  pick  up  this  bunch  ?  " 

The  Enos  Bloodgoods  were  still  agitated  as  they 
entered.  His  lips  had  not  quite  banished  the  scowl, 
nor  her  eyes  the  scorn. 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear/'  he  said,  taking  off  her 
wrap,  and  the  words  struck  those  who  heard  them 
with  a  sudden  chill. 

He  was  of  the  unrelenting  type  that  never  loses 
its  temper,  but  causes  others  to  lose  theirs,  immov 
able  in  his  opinions,  with  a  prowling  walk,  a  studied 
antagonism  in  his  manner,  while  in  his  bulgy  eyes 
was  an  impudent  stare  which  fastened  itself  like  a 
leech  on  the  person  addressed,  to  draw  out  his  weak 
ness. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  31 

Elise  Bloodgood,  who  seemed  tied  to  her  husband 
by  an  invisible  leash,  had  a  hunted,  resisting  quality 
back  of  a  certain  desperate  dash  which  she  assumed, 
rather  than  felt,  in  her  attitude  toward  society  — 
just  as  she  touched  with  red,  cheeks  that  were  meant 
to  be  simply  the  background  of  eyes  that  were  ex 
traordinary,  with  a  lurking  sense  of  tragedy. 

"  Rita,  dear,  I  am  almost  frantic  tonight,"  she 
said  hastily,  in  one  of  those  intimate  moments  of 
which  women  avail  themselves  in  the  midst  of  their 
enemies. 

"  The  last  rumors  are  good,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair, 
bending  over  her  ostensibly  to  arrange  her  scarf. 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Your  brother.  Every  one  downtown  believes 
the  panic  is  stopped.  The  market  has  gone  up.  Gun- 
ther  and  Snelling  are  Bernard's  personal  friends." 

"Friends?"  she  said  bitterly.  "Yes,  that's  just 
the  trouble." 

"  Besides,  he  is  coming  tonight  —  you  knew  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  knew,"  said  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  with  a 
glance  at  her  husband,  who,  at  the  other  side  of  the 
studio,  seemed  intent  only  on  examining  a  reliquary 
in  carved  stone. 

"  Then  he  will  tell  you  himself,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair, 
rearranging  a  little  ornament  that  made  a  splash  of 
gold  on  the  black  hair  of  her  companion.  "  Be  care 
ful  —  don't  talk  too  much  now." 

"What  do  I  care?"  she  said  rebelliously.  "It 
has  got  to  end  sometime." 

She  passed  her  husband,  her  dark  shoulder  flinch 
ing  unconsciously  at  his  near  presence,  and  gave  her 


32  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

hand  to  Stanley  Cheever  and  young  Beecher,  who, 
though  utterly  unconscious  of  the  entanglements  of 
the  evening,  was  struck  by  the  moody  sadness  in 
her  eyes  that  so  strangely  contradicted  the  laugh  that 
was  on  her  lips.  But  as  he  was  wondering,  a  little 
constrained,  how  best  to  open  the  conversation,  the 
door  opened  once  more  and  two  women  entered  — 
Nan  Charters,  who  arrived  like  a  little  white  cloud, 
vibrantly  alert  and  pleased  at  the  stir  her  arrival 
occasioned,  and  Maud  Lille,  who  appeared  behind  her 
as  a  shadow,  very  straight,  very  dark,  Indian  in  her 
gliding  movements,  with  masses  of  somber  hair  held 
in  a  little  too  loosely  for  neatness. 

"  Oh,  dear,  am  I  dreadfully  late?  "  said  Nan  Char 
ters,  who  swept  into  the  studio  the  better  to  display 
her  opera-cloak,  a  gorgeous  combination  of  white 
and  gold  Japanese  embroideries,  which,  mounting 
above  her  throat  in.  conjunction  with  a  scarf  of  min 
gling  pinks,  revealed  only  the  tip  of  her  vivacious 
nose  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"  You  are  strangely  early,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  who 
presented  Beecher  with  a  gesture  which  at  the  same 
time  directed  him  to  attend  to  the  wraps. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Miss  Charters,  with  a  quick 
smile,  and  by  an  imperceptible  motion  she  allowed 
the  cloak  to  slip  from  her  shoulders  and  glide  into 
the  waiting  hands,  revealing  herself  in  a  white  satin 
shot  with  pigeon  red,  which  caused  the  eyes  of  all 
the  women  present  to  focus  suddenly.  Garraboy, 
Cheever,  and  Bloodgood,  who  knew  her,  came  up 
eagerly. 

Teddy  Beecher,  his  arms  crowded  with  the  elusive 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  33 

garment,  which  gave  him  almost  the  feeling  of  a 
human  body,  bore  it  to  the  hall  and  arranged  it  with 
care,  pleasantly  aware  of  the  perfume  it  exhaled.  He 
returned  eagerly,  conscious  of  the  instantaneous  im 
pression  her  smile  had  made  on  him  as  she  turned 
to  thank  him,  a  look  that  had  challenged  and  aroused 
him.  She  was  still  chatting  gaily,  surrounded  by 
the  three  men,  and  he  was  forced  to  occupy  himself 
with  Mrs.  Bloodgood.  His  eyes,  however,  remained 
on  the  young  girl,  who  was  listening  with  unaffected 
pleasure  to  the  compliments  of  her  male  audience. 
Something  in  the  chivalry  of  the  younger  man  re 
volted  at  the  spectacle  of  the  sophisticated  Garraboy 
and  the  worldly  appetites  in  the  eyes  of  Cheever  and 
Bloodgood.  He  felt  almost  an  uneasy  sense  of  her 
peril,  which  was  in  effect  an  instinctive  emotion  of 
jealousy,  and,  profiting  by  the  moment  in  which  Mrs. 
Bloodgood  turned  to  Miss  Lille,  he  slipped  to  Miss 
Charters'  side  and  contrived  to  isolate  her. 

The  studio  was  now  filled  with  chatter.  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair  passed  from  group  to  group,  animating  it  with 
a  word  or  two.  With  the  exception  of  Teddy 
Beecher  and  Nan  Charters,  in  the  several  groups 
there  was  but  one  question  —  the  events  of  the  day 
in  the  financial  world  and  the  probable  outcome  of 
the  secret  conference  at  Gunther's. 

Every  one  watched  the  clock,  awaiting  the  last  ar 
rival  with  an  impatience  that  was  too  truly  founded 
on  the  safety  of  their  personal  fortunes  to  be  con 
cealed. 

"  The  conference  ended  at  six-thirty,"  said  Maud 
Lille  to  Bloodgood  and  Cheever;  "  Majendie  left  for 


84  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

his  house  immediately  after.  I  had  it  from  the  city 
editor  on  the  telephone." 

"Was  any  statement  given  out?"  said  Cheever, 
who  put  one  finger  to  his  lip,  as  he  did  when  a  little 
nervous. 

"  None." 

"  If  he  goes  under,  it  means  the  bottom  out  of  the 
market,"  said  Cheever,  fixing  his  owlish  stare  on 
Bloodgood's  smug  face. 

"Are  you  long?"  asked  Bloodgood,  turning  on 
him  with  curiosity. 

"  A  thousand  shares,"  answered  Cheever,  but  in 
a  tone  that  carried  no  conviction. 

"  He  won't  come,"  said  Maud  Lille  obstinately. 

"  If  he  does,"  said  Cheever  slowly,  "  he's  pulled 
through  and  the  market  ought  to  go  up."  And  a 
second  time  his  finger  jerked  up  to  his  lips,  with  the 
gesture  of  the  stutterer. 

"  He  won't  come,"  repeated  Maud  Lille. 

Bloodgood  gave  her  a  short  look,  trying  to  fathom 
the  reason  of  her  belief,  a  question  he  did  not  care 
to  put  before  Cheever. 

At  this  moment  Majendie  appeared  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  studio.  The  conversation,  which  had 
been  mounting  in  nervous  staccatos,  fell  with  the 
hollo wness  that  one  sometimes  feels  in  the  air  before 
the  first  crash  of  a  storm.  By  an  uncontrollable  im 
pulse,  each  turned,  eager  to  read  in  the  first  indica 
tion  some  clue  to  his  personal  fate. 

The  last  arrival  had  opened  the  outer  door  un 
heard,  and,  profiting  by  the  commotion,  had  removed 
his  overcoat  and  hat  in  the  anteroom. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  35 

When  the  rest  of  the  party  perceived  him,  Ma- 
jendie  was  standing  erect  and  smiling  under  the 
Turkish  lamp  that,  hanging  from  the  balcony,  cast 
a  mellow  light  on  his  genial,  aristocratic  forehead. 
In  every  detail,  from  the  ruddy,  delicately  veined 
cheeks  and  white  mustache  to  the  slight,  finely  shaped 
figure  at  ease  in  the  evening  coat  that  fitted  him  as 
a  woman's  ball  gown,  he  radiated  the  patrician,  but 
the  patrician  of  urbanity,  tact,  and  generous  im 
pulses. 

"  My  dear  hostess,"  he  said  at  once,  bending  over 
Mrs.  Kildair's  hand  with  a  little  extra  formality,  "  a 
thousand  excuses  for  keeping  you  and  your  guests 
waiting.  But  just  at  present  there  are  quite  a  num 
ber  of  persons  who  seem  to  be  determined  to  keep 
me  from  my  engagements.  Am  I  forgiven  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  sudden  feeling  of 
admiration  for  the  air  of  absolute  good  humor  with 
which  he  pronounced  these  words,  mystifying  though 
they  were  to  her  sense  of  divination. 

"  I  think  I  know  every  one,"  he  said,  glancing 
around  without  a  trace  of  emotion  at  Bloodgood  and 
Cheever,  whose  presence  could  not  have  failed  to 
be  distasteful.  "  You  are  very  good  to  be  so  leni 
ent,  and  I  will  accept  whatever  penance  you  impose. 
Are  we  going  to  have  one  of  those  delightful  chafing- 
dish  suppers  that  only  you  know  how  to  provide  ?  " 

"  What  pride ! "  she  murmured  to  herself,  as  he 
passed  over  to  Miss  Charters  with  a  compliment  that 
made  her  and  Beecher  break  out  laughing. 

Up  to  the  moment,  the  group  had  found  not  the 
slightest  indication  of  the  probable  outcome  of  the 


36  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

afternoon's  conference.  If  anything,  there  was  in 
his  carriage  a  quiet  exhilaration.  But  the  moment 
was  approaching  when  he  must  come  face  to  face 
with  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  who,  either  in  order  to  gain 
time  for  the  self-control  that  seemed  almost  beyond 
her,  or  that  she  might  draw  him  into  more  immedi 
ate  converse,  had  withdrawn  so  as  to  be  the  last  he 
should  greet.  Majendie  perceived  instantly  the  im 
prudence  of  the  maneuver,  and  by  a  word  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  followed  at  his  side,  contrived 
to  bring  himself  to  the  farther  side  of  the  group, 
of  which  little  Mrs.  Cheever  and  Garraboy  were  the 
other  two. 

"  I  make  my  excuses  to  the  ladies  first,"  he  said, 
with  a  nod  to  Garraboy,  whom  he  thus  was  enabled 
to  pass.  He  offered  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Bloodgood, 
saying :  "  Grant  me  absolution,  and  I  promise  to  do 
everything  I  can  to  make  you  as  gay  as  I  feel  now." 

Elise  Bloodgood  took  his  hand,  glancing  into  his 
face  with  a  startled  glance,  and  immediately  with 
drew,  murmuring  something  inaudible. 

Mrs.  Kildair,  who  with  everyone  had  been  lis 
tening  to  his  words  for  the  double  meaning  that 
seemed  to  be  conveyed,  stepped  in  front  of  Mrs. 
Bloodgood  to  cover  her  too  evident  agitation. 

"  Elise,"  she  said  sharply,  pressing  her  hand,  "  get 
hold  of  yourself.  You  must!  Everything  is  all 
right.  Didn't  you  understand  him?" 

"  Ah,  if  he  were  going  to  die  tomorrow  he  would 
never  tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  pressing  her 
handkerchief  against  her  lips.  "  Nothing  will  ever 
break  through  his  pride." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  37 

"  But  he  told  you  in  so  many  words,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair  —  who,  however,  didn't  believe  what  she 
said. 

"  He  told  me  nothing —  nothing!  " 

"  You  must  control  yourself/'  said  Mrs.  Kildair, 
alarmed  at  her  emotion. 

"What  do  I  care?" 

"  But  you  must !  Listen.  When  I  go  into  the 
dining-room  don't  follow  me.  I  will  contrive  to  take 
your  husband  with  me.  Profit  by  the  chance.  Be 
sides,  you  are  in  no  state  to  judge.  Does  Bernard 
look  like  a  man  who  has  just  been  told  he  is  ruined? 
Come,  a  little  courage." 

She  left  her  and,  stepping  into  her  bedroom, 
donned  a  Watteau-like  cooking-apron,  and,  slipping 
her  rings  from  her  fingers,  fixed  the  three  on  her 
pin-cushion  with  a  hatpin.  From  the  mirror  in 
which  she  surveyed  herself  she  could  see  the  interior 
of  the  studio  —  Nan  Charters'  laughing  face  above 
the  piano,  where  she  was  running  off  a  succession  of 
topical  songs,  surrounded  by  a  chorus  of  men,  while 
Beecher,  at  her  side,  solicitously  turned  the  pages. 

"  Teddy  seems  quite  taken,"  she  thought.  But 
the  tensity  of  the  drama  drove  from  her  all  other 
considerations.  Completely  mystified  by  Majendie's 
manner,  she  was  studying  the  moment  when  she 
could  throw  him  together  with  Elise  Bloodgood,  con 
vinced  that  from  the  woman  she  would  learn  what 
the  man  concealed. 

"  Your  rings  are  beautiful,  dear,  beautiful,"  said 
the  deep  voice  of  Maud  Lille,  who,  with  Garraboy 
and  Mrs.  Cheever,  was  in  the  room. 


38  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  never  saw  the  ruby  before,"  said  Mrs.  Cheever 
in  a  nervous  voice.  "  My  dear,  you  are  the  most 
mysterious  woman  in  the  world.  Think  of  having  a 
ring  like  that,  and  never  wearing  it ! " 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  stone,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair, 
touching  with  her  thin  fingers  the  ring  that  lay  up 
permost. 

"  It  is  beautiful  —  very  beautiful,"  said  the  jour 
nalist,  her  eyes  fastened  on  it  with  an  uncontrollable 
fascination. 

Mrs.  Cheever,  her  lips  parted,  her  black  eyes  wide 
with  eagerness,  leaned  over.  She  put  out  her  fin 
gers  and  let  them  rest  caressingly  on  the  ruby,  with 
drawing  them  as  though  the  contact  had  burned 
them,  while  on  either  cheek  little  spots  of  red  ex 
citement  showed. 

"  It  must  be  very  valuable,"  she  said,  her  breath 
catching  slightly. 

Garraboy,  moving  forward,  suddenly  looked  at  the 
ring. 

"Yes,  it  is  valuable  —  very  much  so,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair,  glancing  down.  Then  she  went  to  the  door 
that  led  into  the  studio,  and  clapped  her  hands : 

"  Attention,  everybody !  Beecher  and  Garraboy 
are  the  chefs.  Each  one  must  choose  his  scullery- 
maid.  Mr.  Majendie  is  to  make  the  punch.  Every 
one  else  is  butler  and  waitress.  Mrs.  Cheever,  did 
you  ever  peel  onions  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens,  no !  "  said  Mrs.  Cheever,  delicately 
recoiling. 

"  Well,  there  are  no  onions  to  peel,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair,  laughing.  "  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  39 

carry  dishes  or  make  the  toast  —  on  to  the  kitchen !  " 

"  Miss  Charters,  you  are  engaged  at  any  salary 
you  may  name,"  said  Beecher,  forestalling  Garra- 
boy,  who  was  coming  forward. 

"  But  I  shall  drop  every  dish,"  said  Nan  Charters, 
rising  from  the  piano.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  cooking." 

"  Splendid !     Then  you'll  make  no  mistakes." 

He  installed  her  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  went 
off  for  the  chafing-dish.  When  he  returned,  gin 
gerly  balancing  it  on  a  silver  platter,  Garraboy,  profit 
ing  by  his  absence,  was  seated  beside  Nan  Charters, 
speaking  in  a  purposely  low  voice.  She  was  listen 
ing,  perfectly  composed,  looking  straight  before  her 
with  a  tolerant,  uninterested  smile. 

If  women  often  can  conceal  their  true  natures  from 
women,  men  seldom  deceive  one  another.  There  was 
a  fixity  in  Garraboy's  glance  which  Beecher  under 
stood  and  hotly  resented.  But  at  the  moment  when, 
setting  the  tray  on  the  table,  he  was  meditating  some 
ill-advised  remark,  Mrs.  Cheever,  passing  by,  said 
with  ill-concealed  impatience  in  her  thin,  hurried 
voice : 

"  Mr.  Garraboy,  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but  I  have 
been  assigned  as  your  assistant,  and  I  should  like  to 
know  what  I  am  to  do." 

Garraboy  rose  immediately,  bowed  with  perfect 
suavity,  and  rejoined  Mrs.  Cheever,  who  said  to  him 
something  that  the  others  did  not  hear,  but  at  which 
they  saw  him  shrug  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  going  to  make  ?  "  said  Nan 
Charters,  with  the  enjoyment  that  this  exhibition 


40  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

of  feminine  jealousy  had  brought  still  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  like  Garraboy,"  said  Beecher  directly. 

"  Why  not?  "  she  said,  smiling  a  little,  and  raising 
her  eyebrows  as  though  interrogating  a  child. 

"  Because  I  like  you,"  he  answered  abruptly. 

Accustomed  to  contend  with  men,  she  was  sur 
prised  by  the  genuineness  of  his  remark,  which  was 
inspired  by  a  sentiment  deeper  than  jealousy.  She 
looked  at  him  again  with  that  sudden  second  estimate 
which  is  vital. 

"  He  is  not  difficult  to  handle,"  she  said  carelessly, 
unaware  of  the  touch  of  intimacy  which  her  reply 
permitted. 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  he  said  obstinately,  "  and  I 
don't  like  his  crowd  —  the  crowd  that  is  here  to 
night.  They're  like  a  pack  of  wolves.  What  the 
deuce  does  Rita  see  in  them  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Kildair  has  generally,  I  should  say,  a  very 
good  reason  for  whom  she  invites,"  she  said  care 
lessly. 

"  But  these  Cheevers  —  they're  impossible.  How 
the  deuce  do  they  live?" 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Majendie  very  charming." 

"  Oh,  Majendie  —  yes,  I  except  him,"  he  said  en 
thusiastically.  "  He's  a  gentleman." 

"  That  counts  a  good  deal  with  you  ?  "  she  said, 
with  a  touch  of  raillery. 

"  It  does.  I  think  a  gentleman  is  almost  the  rarest 
thing  you  meet  with  today,"  he  said,  holding  his 
ground,  "  a  gentleman  in  the  heart.  I  know  only 
four  or  five." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  she  said,  changing  her  tone. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  41 

She  looked  at  him  a  third  time,  at  the  honest,  boyish 
loyalty  so  plainly  written  on  his  face,  and  said :  "  You 
haven't  gone  out  much  here?  " 

"No;  I'm  just  back  from  knocking  around  the 
world,  hunting  in  Africa  and  all  that  sort  of  use- 
lessness." 

"  Come  and  tell  me  about  it  sometime." 

"May  I?" 

She  laughed  at  his  impetuousness,  and  pointed  to 
the  contents  of  the  chafing-dish,  which  had  been  sim 
mering  neglected;  but  more  than  once  during  the 
operation  her  glance  returned  to  the  eager,  earnest 
face. 

Meanwhile,  Garraboy,  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  assisted  by  Mrs.  Cheever  and  Maud  Lille,  was 
busy  with  a  lobster  a  la  Newburg.  Mrs.  Kildair,  hav 
ing  finished  in  the  kitchen,  had  entered  the  dining- 
room,  where  she  established  a  sort  of  provisional 
serving-table.  She  called  to  her  side  Cheever  and 
Bloodgood,  and,  under  the  pretext  of  arranging  the 
dishes  from  the  china-closet,  kept  them  isolated.  At 
this  moment  Elise  Bloodgood  approached  Majendie, 
who,  at  the  rear  end  of  the  studio,  was  occupied  with 
the  brewing  of  a  punch.  Natural  as  was  the  move 
ment,  it  was  instantly  perceived  by  the  four  or  five 
persons  vitally  interested.  A  moment  afterward 
Mrs.  Bloodgood  passed  into  the  bedroom;  but  there 
was  in  her  carriage  a  triumph  that  she  did  not  care 
to  conceal. 

"  He's  won  out/'  thought  Bloodgood. 

"  The  shorts  will  be  caught/'  thought  Cheever. 
"  The  devil !  I  must  cover." 


42  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Has  he  lied  to  her  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Kildair  to  her 
self.  "  If  everything  is  all  right,  why  should  he 
conceal  it  from  any  one  ?  " 

She  went  across  the  room,  stopping  at  the  punch- 
table. 

"  Have  you  everything  you  need?  "  she  asked. 

"  Everything,  thank  you/'  Majendie  answered 
gently;  but  there  was  in  his  voice  a  tired  note,  as  if 
some  effort  had  suddenly  exhausted  him. 

"  I  understood  what  you  meant,"  she  said,  looking 
at  him  not  without  a  little  pity  —  an  emotion  which 
was  rare  with  her.  "  Let  me  congratulate  you  on 
the  result  of  this  .afternoon/' 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  congratulations," 
he  said  quietly,  taking  her  hand.  "  If  you  knew, 
you  will  understand  why  I  was  kept  so  late." 

As  he  bowed,  the  front  of  his  jacket  opening  a 
little,  she  saw  or  fancied  she  saw  in  the  inner  pocket 
a  strip  of  green,  slightly  protruding.  She  left  him, 
still  unconvinced,  and  turned  to  the  company. 

"  Everything  ready,  Teddy  ?  All  right.  Every 
one  sit  down.  Mrs.  Cheever  and  Mrs.  Bloodgood 
are  appointed  butlers  —  because  real  work  will  do 
them  good.  Sit  down,  sit  down.  I'll  be  back  in  a 
minute." 

As  she  turned  to  her  bedroom,  there  came  a  strong 
ring,  twice  repeated.  She  paused,  astonished. 

"  Who  can  that  be?  "  she  thought,  frowning,  and 
directing  her  steps  toward  the  antechamber.  "  No 
one  is  allowed  to  come  up.  It  must  be  a  telegram." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  Slade  entered. 

"  I  came  right  up,"  he  said  directly,  "  because  I 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  43 

had  no  success  on  the  telephone.  You  rather  excited 
my  curiosity  this  afternoon.  Please  invite  me  to  your 
party." 

The  first  moment  of  irritation  was  succeeded,  on 
her  part,  by  the  feeling  of  elation.  The  impulse  that 
had  brought  Slade  so  unexpectedly  there  was  a  feel 
ing  of  jealousy,  in  which  Beecher  and  Majendie  were 
confusedly  mixed. 

"  He  wishes  to  watch  me  with  his  own  eyes/'  she 
said  triumphantly.  "  Very  well ;  he  shall  be  well 
punished." 

Slade's  arrival  produced  a  moment  of  profound 
astonishment.  Bloodgood  and  Maud  Lille  exchanged 
quick  glances,  believing  the  meeting  between  Majen 
die  and  Slade  had  been  premeditated.  Garraboy 
plucked  Cheever  nervously  by  the  sleeve,  while 
Majendie,  as  if  realizing  that  he  was  dealing  with 
an  antagonist  of  a  different  caliber,  rose  with  a  little 
nervous  inflation  of  the  chest.  Rapid  as  had  been 
the  interim  in  the  antechamber,  Mrs.  Kildair  had 
had  time  to  say: 

"  Majendie  is  here.  Do  you  know  what  happened 
this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I  do/'  said  Slade,  with  malicious  enjoyment,  and 
he  added:  "Do  you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  convinced,  likewise,  of  the 
falsity  of  his  statement.  Then  aloud  she  added: 
"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  Mr.  Slade,  an  impromptu 
guest." 

She  passed  with  him  about  the  table,  introducing 
him  where  it  was  necessary.  Slade  and  Majendie 
did  not  offer  hands ;  each  bowed  with  a  quiet,  meas- 


44  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

ured  politeness.  On  the  contrary,  when  Beecher  was 
reached,  the  older  man  grasped  the  hand  of  the 
younger,  and  held  it  a  moment  with  a  grip  that,  de 
spite  Beecher's  own  strength,  made  him  wince. 

"  Teddy,  be  a  good  boy  and  place  Mr.  Slade  some 
where,"  she  said,  resting  her  hand  purposely  on  the 
young  man's  shoulder.  "  I'll  take  off  my  apron  and 
be  back  immediately." 

She  stopped  near  Majendie,  who  had  returned  to 
the  punch-table  for  an  extra  glass,  and,  seeing  that 
her  movements  were  followed  by  Slade,  said : 

"  Bernard,  believe  me,  I  did  not  plan  it.  I  had 
no  ic&a  he  was  coming." 

"  It  makes  not  the  slightest  difference,"  he  said 
instantly.  "  Mr.  Slade  and  I  have  no  quarrel. 
Please  don't  worry  about  me." 

"  You're  an  awfully  good  sort,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"  That  is  high  praise  from  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
little  critical  smile  which  showed  he  was  not  entirely 
the  dupe  of  her  maneuvers. 

She  went  into  her  bedroom,  and,  divesting  herself 
of  her  apron,  hung  it  in  the  closet.  Then,  going  to 
her  dressing-table,  she  drew  the  hatpin  from  the  pin 
cushion  and  carelessly  slipped  the  rings  on  her  fin 
gers.  All  at  once  she  frowned  and  looked  quickly 
at  her  hand.  Only  two  rings  were  there.  The  third 
one  —  the  ring  with  the  ruby  —  was  gone ! 


CHAPTER  III 

HER  first  emotion  was  of  irritation. 
"  How  stupid !  "  she  said  to  herself,  and,  re 
turning  to  her  dressing-table,  began  to  search  among 
the  silver  and  ivory  boxes.  All  at  once  she  stopped. 
She  remembered  with  a  vivid  flash  putting  the  pin 
through  the  three  rings. 

She  made  no  further  search,  but  remained  without 
moving,  her  fingers  slowly  tapping  the  table,  her  head 
inclined,  her  lips  drawn  in  a  little  between  her  teeth, 
watching  in  the  glass  the  crowded  table  reflected  from 
the  outer  studio. 

In  that  gay  party,  one  person  was  the  thief  —  but 
which  one?  Each  guest  had  had  a  dozen  oppor 
tunities  in  the  course  of  the  time  she  had  been  in  the 
kitchen. 

"  Too  much  prinking,  pretty  lady,"  called  out  Gar- 
raboy,  who,  from  where  he  was  seated,  could  see 
her. 

"  Not  he,"  she  said  quickly.  Then  she  reconsid 
ered:  "  Why  not?  He's  shifty  —  who  knows?  Let 
me  think." 

To  gain  time,  she  went  slowly  back  to  the  kitchen, 
her  head  bowed,  her  thumb  between  her  teeth. 

"Who  has  taken  it?" 

She  ran  over  the  characters  of  her  guests  and  their 
situations  as  she  knew  them.  Strangely  enough,  with 
the  exception  of  Beecher  and  Majendie,  at  each  her 

45 


46  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

mind  stopped  upon  some  reason  that  might  explain 
a  sudden  temptation. 

"And  even  Majendie  —  if  he  is  bankrupt  or  run' 
ning  away/'  she  thought.  "  No,  I  shall  find  out 
nothing  this  way.  That  is  not  the  important  thing 
just  now.  The  important  thing  is  to  get  the  ring 
back.  But  how?" 

All  at  once  she  realized  the  full  disaster  of  the 
situation.  Slade  would  never  believe  her;  and  yet, 
how  was  it  possible  to  admit  before  others  who  had 
lent  her  the  ring? 

"What  could  I  say  to  him?"  she  thought  des 
perately.  "  No,  no ;  I  must  have  the  ring  back,  what 
ever  happens.  I  won't  give  him  that  hold.  I  must 
get  it  back  —  some  way  —  somehow." 

And  mechanically,  deliberately,  she  continued  to 
pace  back  and  forth,  her  clenched  hand  beating  the 
deliberate,  rhythmic  measure  of  her  journey. 

In  the  studio,  meanwhile,  under  the  gay  leadership 
of  Majendie  and  Nan  Charters,  the  spirits  of  the 
company  began  to  rise.  The  rival  chefs  were  sur 
rounded  by  anxious  admirers,  who  shouted  laughing 
instructions  or  protested  with  mock  agony  against 
the  shower  of  red  pepper. 

The  ceremony  had  served  to  bring  Beecher  and 
Nan  Charters  on  terms  of  sympathetic  familiarity. 
The  young  actress  had  the  secret  of  what  is  meant 
by  that  much  abused  word  —  charm.  Her  vivacious 
movements  were  all  charming.  The  eagerness  with 
which  her  eyes  seized  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
the  soft  and  yet  animated  tones  of  her  voice,  the  most 
casual  gesture  she  made,  or  the  most  evident  reply, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  47 

all  seemed  invested  with  a  peculiar  charm  which  was 
at  the  same  time  a  delight  in  pleasure  and  a  happiness 
in  the  consciousness  of  pleasing. 

Beecher  did  not  or  could  not  conceal  the  empire 
she  had  so  suddenly  acquired  over  his  imagination, 
while  Nan  Charters,  quite  aware  of  what  was  hap 
pening,  laughingly  provoked  him  further,  a  little  ex 
cited  beyond  the  emotions  of  an  ordinary  flirtation. 

During  the  progress  of  this  personal  duel,  which, 
however,  every  one  perceived  with  different  emotions, 
Slade,  placed  at  the  middle  of  the  table,  followed 
only  the  expressions  of  Bernard  Majendie,  his  scru 
tiny  at  times  becoming  so  insistently  profound  that 
the  banker  several  times  noticed  it  with  a  swift 
glance  of  annoyed  interrogation,  which,  however, 
did  not  alter  in  the  least  the  fixity  of  the  other's  gaze. 

Meanwhile,  two  or  three  conversations,  expressed 
in  snatched  phrases,  took  place  between  those  whose 
interests  in  the  stock  market  were  put  in  jeopardy 
by  the  mystery  as  to  Majendie's  fate. 

"  There'll  be  a  rush  of  the  shorts  to  cover  tomor 
row,  if  this  is  true,"  said  Cheever  in  a  low  whisper 
to  his  wife.  "  Pump  Mrs.  Bloodgood  all  you  can/' 

"  How  quick  do  you  suppose  they'll  give  the  news 
out  ?  "  said  Bloodgood  to  Garraboy.  "  It  means  a 
buying  movement  as  soon  as  they  do." 

"  Any  paper  may  have  the  news  tomorrow,"  said 
the  broker,  and  the  glass  that  he  took  from  the  punch- 
table  shook  as  he  raised  it. 

"  Do  you  think  Slade  knows?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  —  but  I  think  he  does,"  said  Gar 
raboy  carefully.  "  Better  meet  me  at  the  Waldorf 


48  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

at   eleven.     I'll   get   another   line   on    it   by   then." 

"  Why  the  deuce  should  he  pull  through  ?  "  said 
Bloodgood,  with  a  quick,  dull  fury. 

Garraboy,  with  his  malicious  smile,  perceiving  that 
Bloodgood's  hatred  was  purely  financial,  chuckled 
to  himself,  took  a  couple  of  glasses  in  rapid  suc 
cession,  and  returned  to  the  table  under  perfect  con 
trol,  not  without  a  scowl  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  where  Nan  Charters  and  young  Beecher  were 
laughingly  disputing  the  possession  of  the  pepper- 
shaker. 

A  moment  later,  as  Mrs.  Cheever  was  exclaiming 
at  their  hostess'  prolonged  delay  to  Garraboy,  who 
was  dipping  into  the  lobster  a  la  Newburg,  which 
he  was  preparing  to  serve,  Mrs.  Kildair  slipped  into 
the  room  like  a  lengthening  shadow.  Her  entrance 
had  been  made  with  scarcely  a  perceptible  sound,  and 
yet  each  guest  was  aware  of  it,  at  the  same  moment, 
with  the  same  uncontrollable  nervous  start. 

"  Heavens,  dear  lady,"  exclaimed  Garraboy,  with 
a  twitch  of  his  arms.  "  You  come  in  on  us  like  a 
Greek  tragedy.  What  is  the  surprise  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  Beecher,  looking  up,  saw  her  turn 
suddenly  on  him,  drawing  her  forehead  together  un 
til  the  eyebrows  ran  in  a  straight  line. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  all,"  she  said  in 
a  quiet,  discordant  voice,  while  her  eyes  ran  rest 
lessly  through  the  company  with  a  predatory  sharp 
ness. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  gravity  in  her  voice. 
Garraboy  extinguished  the  oil-lamp,  covering  the 
chafing-dish  clumsily  with  a  disagreeable  tinny 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  49 

sound;  Mrs.  Cheever  and  Mrs.  Bloodgood  swung 
about  abruptly;  Maud  Lille  rose  a  little  from  her 
seat;  Nan  Charters,  dramatically  sensitive,  seized 
unconsciously  the  arm  of  young  Beecher;  while  the 
men,  with  the  exception  of  Slade,  who  still  watched 
Majendie  like  a  terrier,  imitated  their  movements 
of  expectancy  with  a  clumsy  shuffling  of  the  feet. 

"Mr.  Bloodgood." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Kildair?" 

"  Kindly  do  as  I  ask." 

"  Certainly." 

She  had  spoken  his  name  with  a  peremptory  posi- 
tiveness  that  was  almost  an  accusation.  He  rose, 
placing  his  napkin  carefully  at  the  side  of  his  plate, 
raising  his  short  eyebrows  a  little  in  surprise. 

"  Go  to  the  vestibule,"  she  continued,  immediately 
shifting  her  glance  from  him  to  the  others.  "  Are 
you  there  ?  Shut  the  sliding  doors  that  lead  into  the 
studio.  Lock  them.  Bring  me  the  key." 

He  executed  the  order  without  bungling,  while  the 
company,  in  growing  amazement,  fascinated,  watched 
his  squat  figure  returning  with  the  key. 

"  You've  locked  it  ?  "  she  said,  making  the  ques 
tion  an  excuse  to  bury  her  glance  in  his. 

"  As  you  wished  me  to." 

"  Thanks." 

She  took  from  him  the  key,  and,  shifting  slightly, 
likewise  locked  the  door  into  her  bedroom  through 
which  she  had  come. 

Then,  transferring  the  keys  to  her  left  hand,  seem 
ingly  unaware  of  Bloodgood,  who  still  composedly 
awaited  her  further  instructions,  her  eyes  studied  a 


50  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

moment  the  possibilities  of  the  apartment  and  ther* 
returned  to  her  guests. 

"  Mr.  Cheever,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Kildair." 

"  Put  out  all  the  candles  except  the  candelabrum 
on  the  table." 

"  Put  out  the  lights  ? "  he  said,  rising,  with  his 
peculiar  nervous  movement  of  the  ringers  to  the  lips. 

"At  once." 

Mr.  Cheever,  in  rising,  met  the  glance  of  his  wife, 
and  the  look  of  questioning  and  wonder  that  passed 
did  not  escape  the  others. 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kildair,"  cried  Nan  Char 
ters,  with  a  little  nervous  catch  of  her  breath,  "  what 
is  it?  I'm  getting  terribly  worked  up." 

"  Miss  Lille,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair's  undeviating 
voice  of  command,  while  Beecher  placed  his  hand 
firmly  over  his  companion's,  which  had  begun  to 
open  and  shut  in  nervous  tension. 

The  journalist,  more  composed  than  the  rest,  had 
watched  the  proceedings  from  that  shadowy  calm 
which  had  made  her  presence  almost  unnoticed. 
Now,  as  though  forewarned  by  professional  instinct 
that  something  sensational  was  hanging  on  the  mo 
ment,  she  rose  quietly  with  almost  a  stealthy  motion. 

"  Put  the  candelabrum  on  this  table  —  here,"  said 
Mrs.  Kildair,  after  a  long  moment's  confrontation. 
She  indicated  the  large  round  table  on  which  the 
punch-bowl  was  set.  "  No,  wait.  Mr.  Bloodgood, 
first  clear  off  the  table,  cover  and  all ;  I  want  nothing 
on  it." 

As  Bloodgood  started  to  remove  the  punch-bowl 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  51 

Majendie  rose  quickly  and  took  the  heavy  cande 
labrum  from  the  hands  of  Maud  Lille,  saying: 

"  Permit  me ;  that's  rather  heavy  for  you/' 

"  But,  Mrs.  Kildair  — "  began  Mrs.  Cheever's 
voice,  in  shrill  crescendo. 

Mrs.  Kildair,  as  though  satisfied  by  her  examina 
tion  of  the  journalist,  nodded  to  Majendie,  and,  per 
ceiving  the  mahogany  table  clear,  said  without  no 
tice  of  Mrs.  Cheever: 

"  Good!    Now  put  the  candelabrum  down  on  it." 

In  a  moment,  as  Cheever  proceeded  lumberingly 
on  his  errand,  the  brilliant  cross-fire  of  lights 
dropped  away  in  the  studio,  only  a  few  smoldering 
wicks  winking  on  the  wralls,  while  the  high  ceiling 
seemed  to  recede  as  it  came  under  the  sole  dominion 
of  the  three  candles  bracketed  in  silver  at  the  head 
of  the  bare  mahogany  table. 

"  Now  listen ! "  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  and  her  voice 
was  cold  and  abrupt.  "  My  ring  has  just  been 
stolen !" 

She  said  it  suddenly,  hurling  the  news  at  them, 
and  waiting  ferret-like  for  some  indication  in  the 
chorus  that  broke  out. 

The  hand  that  Beecher  still  grasped  shot  out  from 
him  as  though  it  had  been  stung.  For  the  first  time, 
Slade,  forgetting  Majendie,  wheeled  brusquely  and 
concentrated  his  glance  on  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  listened 
unmoved  to  the  storm  of  exclamations: 

"Stolen!" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Mrs.  Kildair,  not  that!  " 

"Stolen  — by  Jove!" 

"Rita  dear!" 


52  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  What !     Stolen  —  here  —  tonight  ?  " 

"  The  ring  has  been  taken  in  the  last  twenty  min 
utes,"  continued  Mrs.  Kildair,  in  the  same  deter 
mined,  chiseled  accents.  "  I  am  not  going  to  mince 
words.  The  ring  has  been  taken,  and  one  of  you 
here  is  the  thief.  This  is  exactly  the  situation." 

For  a  moment  nothing  was  heard  but  an  inde 
scribable  gasp,  while  each,  turning  by  an  uncon 
trollable  impulse,  searched  the  face  of  his  neighbors. 
Suddenly  Slade's  deep  bass  broke  out: 

"Stolen,  Mrs.  Kildair?" 

"  Stolen,"  she  replied  quietly,  meeting  his  inquisi 
torial  glance. 

"  Have  you  searched  very  carefully  ?  "  said  Ma- 
jendie.  "  Mistakes  are  easily  made.  It  may  have 
slipped  to  the  floor.  Are  you  certain  that  it  has 
been  taken  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt,"  said 
Mrs.  Kildair,  conscious  of  the  almost  admiring  sus 
picion  in  Slade's  glance.  "  Three  of  you  were  in  my 
bedroom  when  I  took  off  my  rings,  placed  a  hatpin 
through  them,  and  fastened  them  to  the  pin-cushion. 
Am  I  correct,  Mr.  Garraboy  ?  "  she  added  abruptly. 

"  Perfectly  so,"  said  the  broker,  staring  ahead  with 
a  sudden  consciousness  of  his  dilemma.  He  added 
punctiliously ;  "  I  was  there." 

"  With  the  exception  of  Mr.  Slade,  each  of  you 
has  passed  through  my  bedroom  a  dozen  times.  The 
ring  is  gone,  and  one  of  you  has  taken  it." 

Mrs.  Cheever  gave  a  little  scream  and  reached  heav 
ily  for  a  glass  of  water.  Mrs.  Bloodgood  said  some 
thing  inarticulate,  covering  her  heart  with  her  hand 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  53 

in  the  muffled  outburst  of  masculine  exclamation: 

"The  devil  you  say!" 

"Incredible!" 

"  I  saw  it." 

"  By  Jove !     A  nasty  mess." 

Only  Maud  Lille's  calm  voice  could  be  heard  say 
ing: 

"  Quite  true.  I  was  in  the  room  when  you  took 
them  off.  The  ruby  was  on  top." 

Mrs.  Cheever  sought  to  add  her  testimony,  but 
was  incapable  of  speech.  In  her  agitation  she  spilled 
half  of  the  glass  of  water  as  she  put  it  down  from 
her  lips. 

"Was  the  ring  valuable?"  said  Slade  carefully, 
with  a  quiet  enjoyment. 

Their  eyes  met  a  moment  —  a  look  incomprehen 
sible  to  the  others. 

"  It  was  worth  over  fifteen  thousand  dollars,"1 
Mrs.  Kildair  answered,  in  the  buzz  of  astonish 
ment. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

"  I  have  not  minced  words/'  she  said,  turning  her 
eyes  to  Maud  Lille  and  back  to  Garraboy.  "  There 
is  a  thief,  and  that  thief  is  here  in  this  room.  Now, 
I  am  not  going  to  stand  on  ceremony.  I  am 
going  to  have  that  ring  back  in  one  way  or  another 
—  now.  Listen  to  me  carefully.  I  intend  to  have 
that  ring  back,  and,  until  I  do,  not  a  soul  shall  leave 
this  room." 

"A  search?"  said  Slade  quietly. 

"  No,"  she  said  instantly,  tapping  on  the  table  with 
her  nervous  knuckles.  "  I  don't  care  to  know  the 


54  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

thief  —  all  I  want  is  the  ring.  And  this  is  the  way 
I  am  going  to  get  it."  She  stopped  for  another 
quick,  searching  glance,  and  continued  with  cold  con 
trol  : 

"  I  am  going  to  make  it  possible  for  whoever  took 
it  to  restore  it  to  me  without  possibility  of  detection. 
The  doors  are  locked  and  will  stay  locked.  I  am 
going  to  put  out  the  lights,  and  I  am  going  to  count 
one  hundred  —  slowly.  You  will  be  in  absolute 
darkness ;  no  one  will  know  or  see  what  is  done,  and 
I  give  my  word  that  I  will  count  the  full  hundred. 
There  will  be  no  surprise,  no  turning  up  of  lights. 
But  if,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  the  ring  is  not  placed 
here  on  this  table,  I  shall  telephone  for  detectives 
and  have  every  one  in  this  room  searched.  Am  I 
clear?" 

The  transfer  of  the  candelabrum  to  the  further 
table  had  left  those  of  the  diners  who  had  remained 
by  the  dinner-table  in  half  obscurity.  Instantly  there 
was  a  shifting  and  a  dragging  of  chairs,  a  confused 
jumble  of  questions  and  explanations. 

Nan  Charters  for  the  second  time  seized  the  arm 
of  Teddy  Beecher.  She  murmured  something  which 
he  did  not  hear.  He  glanced  at  her  face,  and  for 
a  moment  an  incredible  suspicion  crossed  his  mind. 
But  the  next,  as  he  glanced  down  the  table  at  the 
totally  unnerved  attitude  of  Mrs.  Cheever  and  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  he  understood  better  the  agitation  of  his 
companion. 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  one  ?  "  he  whispered,  by  an 
impulse  that  seemed  to  spring  into  his  mind. 

The  young  actress  turned  to  him  with  almost  an 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  55 

expression  of  terror  in  her  eyes,  which  at  the  same 
time  implored  him  to  be  silent. 

"  She  knows  something,"  he  thought,  with  a  som 
ber  feeling.  His  own  face  was  flushed.  He  felt 
that  to  all  he  must  appear  guilty.  "  Every  one  feels 
the  same,"  he  thought,  looking  again  at  his  compan 
ion,  who  was  gazing  with  almost  frightened  intensity 
straight  ahead  of  her. 

He  followed  her  glance,  and  saw  that  the  object 
of  her  gaze  was  none  other  than  Mrs.  Enos  Blood- 
good,  who  still  held  her  hand  pressed  over  her  breast, 
her  lips  parted  as  though  suffocating  with  emotion. 
But,  before  he  had  time  even  to  consider  the  bearing 
of  this  discovery,  Mrs.  Kildair's  voice,  firm  and  un 
relenting,  cut  short  the  confusion. 

"  Every  one  come  to  this  table,  please.  Take  your 
places  here/'  she  said,  and  to  emphasize  the  com 
mand  she  rapped  sharply  for  order. 

In  the  bustle  that  took  place,  Beecher  was  sepa 
rated  from  Miss  Charters,  and  when  he  found  him 
self  at  the  table  she  was  opposite  him,  her  eyes  on 
the  table. 

"  Can  you  make  a  little  room  ?  "  he  heard  Maud 
Lille's  low  voice  say,  and,  drawing  away  from 
Cheever,  who  was  on  his  right,  he  allowed  the  jour 
nalist  to  take  her  place  beside  him. 

Majendie  was  on  the  left  of  Mrs.  Kildair,  Slade 
next  to  him,  sweeping  the  table  slowly  with  his  di 
rect,  lowering  glance,  his  lips  slightly  pursed.  Blood- 
good,  his  hands  sunk  in  his  pockets,  stared  bullishly 
ahead,  while  between  Cheever  and  his  wife  there 
passed  a  covert,  terrible  glance  of  interrogation. 


56  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Garraboy,  with  his  hands  locked  over  his  chin,  arms 
folded,  looked  straight  ahead  staring  fixedly  at  his 
hostess. 

Mrs.  Kildair,  having  assured  herself  that  all  was 
arranged  as  she  desired,  blew  out  two  of  the  three 
candles,  which  suddenly  caused  the  eyes  on  the  dim 
faces  to  stand  out  in  startled  relief. 

"  I  shall  count  one  hundred  —  no  more,  no  less,'* 
she  said  quietly.  "  Either  the  ring  is  returned  or 
every  one  in  this  room  is  to  be  searched.  Remem 
ber." 

She  motioned  to  Slade,  who,  leaning  over,  blew 
out  the  remaining  candle,  while  a  little  hysterical  cry 
was  heard  from  Mrs.  Cheever. 

The  wick  shone  a  moment  with  a  hot,  glowing 
spire,  and  then  everything  was  black.  Mrs.  Kildair 
began  to  count. 

"  One  —  two  —  three  —  four  —  five  —  six  — 
seven  —  eight  —  nine  —  ten  — " 

She  gave  each  number  with  the  inexorable  regu 
larity  of  a  clock's  reiterated  note. 

"  Eleven  —  twelve  —  thirteen  —  fourteen  —  fif 
teen  —  sixteen  —  seventeen  — " 

In  the  room  every  sound  was  distinct  —  the  rustle 
of  a  shifting  dress,  the  grinding  of  a  shoe,  the  deep, 
slightly  asthmatic  breathing  of  a  man. 

"  Twenty-one  —  twenty-two  —  twenty-three  — 
twenty- four  —  twenty-five  —  twenty-six  — " 

The  counting  went  on,  without  the  slightest  varia 
tion,  with  a  methodic,  rasping  reiteration  that  began 
to  produce  almost  an  hypnotic  effect  on  the  imagina 
tions  held  in  suspense. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  57 

"Thirty  —  thirty-one  —  thirty-two  —  thirty- 
three  — " 

A  slight  rasping  breath  was  heard,  and  then  a  man 
nervously  clearing  his  throat. 

"  Thirty-nine  —  forty  —  forty-one  —  forty- 
two  -r" 

Still  nothing  had  happened.  No  other  sound  had 
broken  in  on  the  strained  attention  of  every  ear. 
Yet  the  voice  that  counted  did  not  vary  in  the  slight 
est  measure ;  only  the  sound  became  less  human,  more 
metallic. 

"  Forty-seven  —  forty-eight  —  forty-nine  — 
fifty  —  fifty-one  —  fifty-two  — " 

A  woman  had  sighed  —  Mrs.  Bloodgood  next  to 
him  —  the  sigh  of  a  woman  yielding  up  conscious 
ness  to  pain. 

11  Fifty-four  —  fifty-five  —  fifty-six  —  fifty-seven 
• —  fifty-eight  —  fifty-nine  —  sixty  —  sixty-one  — " 

All  at  once,  clear,  ringing,  unmistakable,  on  the 
sounding  plane  of  the  table  was  heard  a  quick  metallic 
note  that  echoed  and  reechoed  in  the  empty  blackness. 

"The  ring!" 

It  was  Maud  Lille's  deep  voice  that  had  cried  out. 
Beecher  suddenly  against  his  shoulder  felt  the  weight 
of  Mrs.  Bloodgood's  swaying  body.  The  voice  that 
counted  hesitated  a  moment,  but  only  a  moment. 

"  Sixty-two  — sixty-three  — " 

Several  voices  began  to  protest : 

"No,  no!" 

"Light  the  candles!" 

"  It's  too  much !  " 

"Don't  go  on!" 


58  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Seventy-five  —  seventy-six  —  seventy-seven  — 
seventy-eight  —  seventy-nine  — " 

The  sound  dominated  the  protest.  Some  one  be 
gan  to  laugh,  an  hysterical,  feverish  laughter  that 
chilled  Beecher  to  the  bones.  He  put  out  his  hand 
and  steadied  the  body  of  the  woman  next  to  him. 

"  Eighty-five  —  eighty-six  — " 

"  Hurry,  oh,  hurry  —  please  hurry !  "  cried  the 
voice  of  Nan  Charters,  and  some  one  else  cried: 

"  Enough  —  this  is  terrible !  " 

"  Ninety-five  —  ninety-six  —  ninety-seven  — 
ninety-eight  —  ninety-nine,  and  one  hundred." 

At  once  a  match  sputtered  in  the  hands  of  Slade. 
There  was  a  cry  from  every  one,  and  the  table  shiv 
ered  with  the  weight  of  those  who  craned  forward. 
Then  a  second  cry  of  amazement  and  horror.  The 
table  was  absolutely  bare.  The  ring  a  second  time 
had  been  taken. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FOR  a  full,  strained  moment  not  a  sound  escaped 
the  company;  even  the  strongest  natures,  Slade, 
Majendie  and  Rita  Kildair  seemed  powerless  to  grasp 
what  had  taken  place.  Then  the  realization  came, 
in  a  flash.  What  the  first  thief  had  failed  to  carry 
through  another  had  boldly  dared :  a  man  or  a  woman, 
deliberately  or  hysterically,  had  seized  the  opportunity 
that  had  lain  there,  in  the  darkness,  between  the 
sixty -first  second  and  the  hundredth  count. 

The  match  in  Slade's  hands  burned  his  fingers, 
and  went  out.  In  the  sudden  blackness  a  dozen  cries 
were  heard : 

"Light  the  candle!" 

"  Turn  on  the  electric  light!  " 

"Search  the  floor!" 

"Stolen  again!" 

"Ghastly!" 

"Alight!    Alight!" 

Another  match  sputtered,  and  one  candle  caught 
the  flame  and  flung  its  expanding  circles  of  light 
around  them. 

"  It  must  have  rolled  to  the  floor."  said  Majendie's 
voice,  among  the  first. 

"  Nonsense !  "  broke  in  Slade's  powerful  bass. 
"  There  are  no  carpets ;  we  would  have  heard  it. 
There  is  a  second  thief  here.  Every  one  must  be 

59 


60  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

searched.  Mrs.  Kildair,  if  you  wish  I'll  call  up  my 
detective  agency." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair  instantly,  and  her  voice 
had  regained  its  calm.  "  I  will  attend  to  that  my 
self." 

She  went  quickly  to  the  door  into  the  bedroom, 
unlocked  it,  passed  through,  and  locked  it  again.  A 
moment  later  the  impatient  ring  of  a  telephone  was 
heard. 

In  the  ill-lit  studio  the  greatest  confusion  prevailed. 
Every  one  seemed,  by  a  common  impulse,  to  desire 
to  escape  to  the  farthest  ends  of  the  room,  stumbling 
and  bumping  against  one  another  in  the  obscurity. 
Some  instinct  impelled  Beecher  to  Nan  Charters' 
side.  He  took  her  arm  with  a  strong,  reassuring 
grip,  expecting  to  find  her  still  shaken  with  emotion ; 
but,  to  his  amazement,  he  found  her  entirely  col 
lected. 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  all  right,"  she  said,  releasing 
herself,  with  a  little  smile. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  said  doubtfully. 

At  this  moment,  as  he  stood  staring  at  her,  per 
plexed,  Slade's  voice  rang  out  peremptorily: 

"  The  electric  lights  —  some  one  turn  on  the 
lights!" 

He  left  her,  and,  going  to  the  wall  toward  the  ante 
chamber,  pressed  the  three  buttons  embedded  there. 
Instantly  the  great  room  was  showered  with  a  brutal 
glare.  Near  the  piano,  Mrs.  Cheever  was  sunk  in  an 
arm-chair,  in  a  seemingly  hysterical  state,  while  Mr. 
Cheever,  glass  in  hand,  was  bending  over  her;  Mrs. 
Bloodgood  was  seated  at  the  dining-table,  her  head 


'I    shall    have    the    detectives    here — a    man 
northing  to  do  but 


and   a  woman— within   half   an   hour    There   is 
wait'"— Page  61 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  61 

resting  in  her  hands ;  Garraboy  and  Bloodgood  were 
turning  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  Only  Maud  Lille, 
stoic  and  alert,  remained  at  her  original  place.  Slade 
and  Majendie  were  carefully  exploring  the  floor. 

Beecher  did  not  at  once  return  to  his  companion. 
Her  sudden  change  perplexed  him  with  thoughts 
that  he  did  not  wish  to  analyze  too  deeply.  He  ex 
pected  that  she  would  rejoin  Mrs.  Bloodgood;  but 
the  young  actress,  as  though  purposely  avoiding  her, 
went  finally  to  where  Maud  Lille  was  standing,  and 
said,  with  a  command  that  startled  Beecher : 

"  Mr.  Majendie,  there  is  always  a  chance  that  the 
ring  may  have  rolled  off  the  table  and  been  caught  in 
somebody's  dress.  Such  things  have  happened  again 
and  again.  I  suggest  that  every  woman  make  a  care 
ful  search." 

"  Miss  Charters  is  quite  right,"  said  Majendie, 
who,  advancing  to  the  middle  of  the  studio,  repeated 
the  suggestion.  "The  situation  is  frightful;  we 
must  take  every  precaution  to  avoid  the  chances  of 
an  accident/' 

The  four  women  immediately  began  to  examine 
the  ruffles  and  draperies  of  their  skirts  —  without 
success. 

All  at  once  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  room  opened, 
and  Mrs.  Kildair  reappeared. 

"  I  shall  have  the  detectives  here  —  a  man  and  a 
woman  —  within  half  an  hour,"  she  said.  "  There 
is  nothing  to  do  but  wait." 

She  seated  herself  in  a  chair  near  the  door,  her 
hands  stretched  out  over  the  arms,  her  head  lowered. 
Every  one  sat  down,  with  the  exception  of  Maud 


62  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Lille,  who,  however,  shifted  a  little  so  as  to  have  the 
support  of  the  piano.  No  one  spoke;  the  situation 
had  passed  beyond  comment. 

On  the  dining-table  the  little  alcohol-lamp  under  a 
chafing-dish  burnt  itself  out  unnoticed.  At  the  end 
of  thirty-five  minutes,  during  which  every  one  had 
been  intent  on  the  torturous  progress  of  the  clock, 
a  sudden  buzz  was  heard. 

Mrs.  Kildair  rose  and,  passing  out  by  way  of  the 
bedroom,  was  heard  talking  behind  the  closed  doors 
that  led  into  the  hall,  a  sound  followed  by  the  indis 
tinguishable  jumble  of  voices. 

A  nervous  five  minutes,  and  she  reappeared,  with 
the  same  incomprehensible  calm  that  had  marked  her 
during  the  period  in  the  dark. 

"  The  women  will  go  into  the  bedroom,"  she  said, 
without  variation  of  her  voice.  "  The  men  will  be 
searched  in  the  dining-room," 

"  One  moment,"  said  Slade,  taking  a  step  in  ad 
vance. 

Mrs.  Kildair  turned  with  a  start,  the  first  agitation 
noticeable. 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  keep  an  ap 
pointment  at  ten  o'clock,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the 
clock,  which  stood  at  the  last  quarter.  "  As  I  was 
not  here  when  the  ring  was  first  stolen,  I  ask  the 
privilege  of  being  examined  the  first." 

At  this  there  was  a  murmur,  and  Mrs.  Kildair 
hesitated. 

Slade,  giving  a  disdainful  shoulder  to  the  protest, 
strode  deliberately  to  Mrs.  Kildair  and  spoke  with 
her  in  a  low  voice.  At  the  end  of  a  moment  Mrs. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  63 

Kildair  nodded  as  though  convinced,  and,  going  to 
the  folding  doors,  unlocked  them.  Outside  a  man 
in  a  dark  business  suit,  as  grimly  correct  as  an  under 
taker,  was  waiting  with  folded  arms. 

Slade  bowed  and  passed  into  the  hall,  shutting  the 
doors  behind  him,  while  Mrs.  Kildair  came  back 
slowly,  evidently  running  over  in  her  mind  the  order 
of  selection. 

"  Mrs.  Bloodgood,"  she  said  finally,  "  will  you  go 
first?" 

Mrs.  Bloodgood,  surprised  at  the  formal  appella 
tion,  rose  hastily,  and  started  blindly  for  the  vesti 
bule  through  which  Slade  had  passed. 

"  In  my  bedroom,  please,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair. 

The  young  woman  checked  herself,  faltering  a  lit 
tle,  and  entered  the  bedroom,  where,  for  a  moment, 
could  be  seen  the  drab  figure  of  another  woman,  or 
namented  by  a  little  toque  with  a  red  feather. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  Majendie,  rising,  "  it  is 
equally  important  for  me  to  leave  as  soon  as  possible. 
While  I  know  that  I  ask  a  favor,  possibly  all  of  you 
know  that  my  affairs  are  at  a  vital  stage,  and  I  should 
appreciate  it  very  much  if  there  were  no  objection  to 
my  being  examined  the  next." 

He  turned,  with  a  courteous  bow,  as  he  concluded. 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing,"  said  Beecher  at  once. 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Bloodgood,  while  Cheever  made 
a  gesture  of  dissent. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Garraboy.  "  I  have  my  own  ap 
pointment,  that  means  a  great  deal  to  me.  I  regret 
that  I  cannot  accede  to  Mr.  Majendie's  request." 

"  These  gentlemen  are  quite  within  their  rights," 


64  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

said  Majendie,  accepting  the  refusal  with  the  same 
courtesy.  He  thanked  Beecher  with  a  smile,  and 
added:  "  If  you  are  willing,  Mrs.  Kildair,  shall  we 
draw  lots  for  it?" 

"  Quite  so/'  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  and  she  arranged 
four  slips  in  her  fingers  and  tendered  them. 

Majendie  drew  the  longest,  and  was,  therefore, 
forced  to  wait  until  Garraboy,  Bloodgood,  and  Chee- 
ver  had  passed  ahead.  He  glanced  at  the  clock  with 
a  sudden,  uneasy  look,  and  returned  to  his  chair: 
but,  for  the  first  time,  a  frown  appeared  on  his  face, 
while  his  fingers  tore  into  bits  the  slip  of  paper,  which 
he  did  not  notice  he  had  retained. 

Beecher  was  unpleasantly  aware  that  Garraboy  was 
watching  him,  and  this  scrutiny,  which  might  have 
been  inspired  by  a  personal  jealousy,  struck  him  as  a 
deliberate  suspicion.  He  returned  the  look  with  a 
belligerent  intensity,  conscious  in  his  own  mind  that 
he  had  already  formed  a  prejudice  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  second  thief. 

"  A  woman  might  have  taken  the  ring  on  impulse," 
he  thought  uneasily,  "  but  only  a  man  could  have  had 
the  cold  daring  to  take  it  the  second  time." 

He  eliminated  Majendie  by  an  instinctive  rejec 
tion;  Slade  appeared  an  equally  impossible  solu 
tion. 

"  It's  Cheever,  Bloodgood,  or  Garraboy,"  he 
thought.  "  And  Cheever  hasn't  the  nerve  —  I  don't 
believe  it.  It's  Bloodgood  or  Garraboy  —  and  Gar 
raboy  is  the  most  likely." 

Suddenly  a  hot,  panicky  feeling  came  to  him. 
What  if  the  real  thief  —  Garraboy,  for  instance — - 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  65 

had  slipped  the  ring  into  his  own  pocket?  He  un 
locked  his  hands  and  hurriedly  searched  his  clothes. 
Then  annoyed  at  seeing  this  childish  action  come  un 
der  the  notice  of  the  broker,  he  shifted  in  his  seat 
and  glanced  toward  Nan  Charters.  To  his  surprise, 
he  found  again  the  same  indications  of  nervousness 
in  the  concentration  of  her  eye  on  the  door  leading 
into  the  bedroom. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Bloodgood  emerged,  and  Mrs. 
Cheever  went  in.  At  once  the  nervous  tension  of  his 
companion  seemed  to  relax,  and  she  sank  back  in  her 
seat,  with  an  indifferent  glance  around  the  room. 

"  Decidedly,  there  is  something  queer  between  the 
two,"  he  thought,  mystified. 

In  the  studio  the  same  stony  silence  was  main 
tained.  Through  the  open  doors  that  led  to  the  ante 
chamber  Slade  reappeared,  hesitated  a  moment  as  if 
to  reenter  the  studio,  then  bowed  and  went  out. 
Behind  him  the  detective  was  seen  waiting.  Garra- 
boy  rose  and  immediately  passed  into  the  back. 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  had  taken  her  seat  apart,  staring 
ahead  as  though  by  a  difficult  process  of  mental  con 
trol,  for  at  times  her  glance,  despite  the  conscious 
ness  of  her  husband's  espionage,  flashed  over  to 
where  Majendie  was  impatiently  following  the  move 
ments  of  the  clock. 

When  Garraboy's  search  had  ended,  he  followed 
the  precedent  of  Slade,  bowed  without  speaking,  and 
departed;  while  Bloodgood,  guarding  the  same  si 
lence,  passed  into  the  dining-room.  Maud  Lille  suc 
ceeded  Mrs.  Cheever,  who  returned  in  the  same  state 
of  agitation  that  she  had  shown  from  the  beginning. 


66  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

She  started  to  approach  her  husband,  when  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair's  controlled  voice  was  heard : 

"  Not  there,  please,  Mrs.  Cheever.  Kindly  sit  at 
this  side  of  the  room  with  Mrs.  Bloodgood." 

Mrs.  Cheever  flushed  instantly,  and  sank,  or  rather 
collapsed,  in  the  chair  which  had  been  indicated. 

All  at  once  there  came  another  ring,  followed  by 
two  or  three  impatient  taps  on  the  outer  door.  There 
was  a  sudden  stir  in  the  room,  where  all  nerves  were 
-clearly  on  the  edge,  and  Mrs.  Cheever  gave  a  little 
scream. 

"  I'll  answer,"  said  Cheever,  rising. 

"  Wait,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair.  She  started  toward 
the  door,  and  then,  changing  her  mind,  as  if  unwill 
ing  to  relax  her  surveillance  of  events  in  the  studio, 
stopped.  "  Mr.  Beecher,  please,"  she  said  thought 
fully.  "  See  who  it  is."  And  she  moved  slightly 
toward  the  half -drawn  portieres,  to  hear  and  at  the 
same  time  to  be  concealed. 

Garraboy  was  outside,  a  coat  on  his  arm. 

"  Excuse  me/'  he  said,  without  emotion.  "  I  took 
the  wrong  coat.  Stupid  of  me.  Just  found  it  out." 

"  It  looks  like  mine,"  said  Beecher,  examining  it. 

"  Probably  is,"  said  Garraboy,  who  extracted  an 
other  coat  of  similar  appearance  from  the  rack, 
plunged  into  his  pockets  and  nodded.  "  Sure  enough. 
Sorry.  Good  night." 

So  thoroughly  disagreeable  an  impression  had  the 
broker  produced  upon  Beecher  that,  in  a  moment  of 
suspicion,  moved  by  an  incredible  thought,  he  ran 
his  hands  hastily  through  the  pockets. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  been  surprised,"  he  grumbled 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  67 

to  himself,  and  returned  to  the  studio,  where  the  con 
versation  had  been  overheard. 

The  search  continued,  ended,  and,  as  all  expected, 
no  trace  of  the  ring  was  found. 

Mrs.  Kildair  excused  herself,  evidently  maintaining 
her  calm  with  difficulty.  The  guests,  murmuring  in 
articulate  phrases,  took  their  wraps,  and  young 
Beecher  found  himself  shortly  in  a  coupe  beside  Nan 
Charters. 

For  several  moments  neither  spoke,  each  absorbed 
in  his  own  speculations.  Beecher  studied  the  figure 
at  his  side  with  covert  glances,  amazed  at  the  trans 
formation  from  the  childlike  charm  which  had  first 
fascinated  him.  An  hour  before  he  had  begun  to 
wonder  how  far  that  feeling  might  develop  in  him; 
now,  as  he  watched  her,  he  was  conscious  of  a  dis 
passionate,  almost  resentful  analysis.  The  fragrance 
of  her  perfume,  a  little  too  overpowering,  filled  the 
interior  of  the  coupe.  She  herself,  bending  slightly 
forward,  one  elbow  against  the  window-pane,  pressed 
her  ungloved  knuckles  against  her  chin,  while  her 
glance,  set  and  controlled,  was  lost  in  the  cloudy 
shadows  and  striped  reflections  of  the  street  without. 

"  What  is  terrible  in  such  a  situation,"  she  said 
musingly,  but  without  turning,  "  is  that  any  one  may 
be  suspected." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  almost  an  absolute 
change  of  personality.  The  very  tone  brought  to 
him  an  increased  antagonism. 

"  Quite  true,"  he  said.  "  You  may  have  taken  it 
the  first  time,  and  I  the  second." 

She  turned  and  tried  to  distinguish  his  expression ; 


68  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

but,  if  he  had  hoped  to  startle,  he  was  disappointed. 
She  said,  quite  possessed: 

"  Why  do  you  put  it  that  way  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  convinced  that  the  second  time  was 
the  deliberate  action  of  a  man,  and  that  the  first  was 
the  impulse  of  a  woman." 

"  Why  a  woman  the  first  time?  " 

"  That  is  simply  my  feeling.  A  woman  would  not 
calculate  the  chances  of  detection,  would  have  kept 
the  ring  on  her  person,  and  would  have  restored  it. 
What  do  you  think?" 

"  Possibly,"  she  said,  her  glance  returning  to  the 
street. 

"  But  you  don't  agree  with  me,"  he  said,  leaning 
a  little  forward. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Miss  Charters,  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a 
question?  " 

"What?    Yes." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  a  woman  took  it  the  first 
time?" 

She  turned  very  slowly  and  looked  at  him  steadily 
a  moment. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  But  you  suspect,"  he  persisted. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Beecher,  that  this  is  a  very 
strange  question  ?  "  she  said.  "  Exactly  what  are 
you  implying?  Do  you,  by  any  chance,  suspect  me ?  " 

She  said  the  last  words  gently,  with  a  return  of 
the  first  manner  which  had  so  held  him.  And  again, 
without  being  able  to  resist,  he  felt  the  charm  on  his 
senses.  He  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  her.  At 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  69 

times  the  most  direct  suspicions  had  entered  his  mind ; 
never-the-less  all  at  once  he  heard  himself  answer 
ing: 

"  I  know  nothing  in  the  world  about  you,  Miss 
Charters,  but  my  instinct  tells  me  that  is  absolutely 
impossible." 

"Only?" 

"  Only  I  can  not  forget  your  agitation  at  certain 
moments." 

"  Naturally;  that  is  my  temperament." 

"  You  are  perfectly  calm  now,  and  you  were  per 
fectly  calm  at  certain  times  tonight." 

She  turned  suddenly  in  her  seat  and  faced  him, 
saying  sharply: 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"May  I  speak  frankly?" 

"  I  ask  you  to  do  so,"  she  said  peremptorily. 

"  I  think  —  in  fact,  I  am  convinced  —  that  you 
suspect  who  took  the  ring  in  the  first  place." 

The  cab  was  grinding  against  the  curb.  She  put 
out  her  hand  hurriedly,  as  if  the  impulse  were  to  jump 
from  the  carriage.  But  immediately  she  checked  the 
movement,  and  turned,  saying  very  simply  and  di 
rectly  : 

"  Do  you  wish  to  be  my  friend?  " 

"  You  know  I  do,"  he  said,  surprised. 

"  Then,  if  you  do,  and  trust  me,  never  ask  that 
question  again  —  or  make  the  slightest  reference  to 
it" 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it,  but  without 
an  answer,  opened  the  door,  saw  her  to  her  vestibule, 
and  returned  silent  and  moody,  turning  over  again 


70  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

and  again  in  his  mind  the  sudden  contradiction  in  her 
character. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  repels  or  attracts  me  most,"  he 
said,  tramping  over  the  quiet  pavements,  which  flung 
back  the  riotous  thumping  of  his  cane.  But,  as  he 
went  aimlessly  along,  he  felt  again  creeping  over  him 
the  suddenness  of  her  charm  and  a  certain  unsatisfied 
restlessness  to  see  her  again,  which  came  to  him  with 
the  faint  scent  of  the  perfume  that  had  clung  to  his 
coat. 

All  at  once  he  stopped. 

"  I've  got  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  all  this  affair," 
he  said  abruptly.  "  I  believe  she's  as  straight  as  they 
make  'em ;  I'd  wager  my  soul  on  it  —  but  I've  got  to 
know ! " 

And,  boarding  a  surface  car,  he  returned  to  Rita 
Kildair's. 


CHAPTER  V 

HE  had  arrived  at  the  studio  building  and  entered 
the  lower  vestibule  before  he  was  aware  of  the 
lateness  of  the  hour.  He  pulled  out  his  watch,  and 
found  that  it  was  almost  midnight. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  he  said,  taking  a  step  back. 
"  I  quite  forgot  the  time."  He  started  to  go,  then 
turned  to  the  switchboard.  "  Could  I  telephone  up 
to  Mrs.  Kildair's  apartment  ?  " 

"  Go  right  up,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  the  hallboy,  ris 
ing. 

"Are  you  certain?"  he  said  doubtfully. 

"  Sure.     Orders  is  to  send  up  any  one  who  calls." 

A  little  surprised,  he  entered  the  elevator.  At  that 
moment  a  ring  sounded,  and  on  the  indicator  the 
figure  4  dropped. 

"  That's  her  floor  now,"  said  the  boy,  starting  up 
the  elevator. 

At  the  fourth  he  came  face  to  face  with  Garraboy, 
who  saw  him  with  a  start  of  surprise  and  a  sudden 
look  of  malice.  The  two  nodded,  without  cordiality. 

"  Hello,"  said  Garraboy,  looking  at  him  with  a  cu 
rious  fixity  which  he  remembered  after.  "  What  are 
you  doing  here  ?  " 

"What  are  you?"  said  Beecher  abruptly. 

"Some  valuable  information  to  volunteer?"  per 
sisted  the  other,  with  a  deliberate  accent  of  irony. 

"  Perhaps." 

71 


72  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Indeed  ?  Then  you  have  come  to  assist  in  re 
storing  the  ring,"  said  Garraboy  in  a  low  voice ;  and 
on  his  young,  wrinkled  face  was  a  faint  glimmer  of  a 
smile. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Beecher,  flushing  angrily.  "  Does 
that  annoy  you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Garraboy  drily.  "  On  the 
contrary,  I  am  interested  —  exceedingly  so."  He 
lifted  his  hat  slightly  and  stepped  into  the  elevator. 

"  Now,  what  in  the  devil  has  he  got  in  his  mind  ?  " 
thought  Beecher  angrily.  "  And  what  was  his  idea 
in  coming  back?  Nice  look  he  gave  me.  Thought 
he  had  such  an  all-fired  important  engagement  that 
he  had  to  hurry  away !  " 

He  tried  the  door  absent-mindedly,  and  found  it 
locked.  A  long  moment  after  he  had  pressed  a  sec 
ond  time  upon  the  bell,  the  door  was  opened  by  Rita 
Kildair  herself,  who  drew  back  in  evident  astonish 
ment. 

"  You  ?  "  she  said,  frowning. 

"  I  was  going  to  telephone,"  he  said,  a  little  em 
barrassed  ;  "  but  they  told  me  downstairs  to  come  up." 

"  Quite  right." 

"  Look  here,  Rita,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  feeling 
of  intuition.  "  I  know  you  probably  think  I'm  a 
prime  representative  of  the  pinhead  family,  but  I'm 
awfully  broken  up  by  what  happened.  Can't  I  help 
out  some  way?  " 

"Is  that  why  you've  come?"  she  said  slowly. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  meeting  her  scrutiny  with 
a  puzzled  glance. 

She  considered  a  moment  and  then  said  abruptly: 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  73 

"  Go  in  and  sit  down.  I'm  busy  at  the  telephone. 
I'll  be  back  in  a  moment." 

The  studio  was  still  blazing  with  the  electric  chan 
deliers,  the  dining-table  still  crowded  with  the  un 
touched  dinner,  with  that  sense  of  desolation  and 
fatigue  which  the  aftermath  of  a  banquet  presents. 
Lighted  up  as  it  was,  the  studio  had  none  of  the  mys 
tery  that  charmed  —  rather,  something  of  the  cruel 
garishness  of  the  white  sun. 

He  moved  about  aimlessly,  arms  crossed,  his  im 
agination  repeopling  the  room  with  the  strongly  ac 
centuated  personalities  who  had  gathered  there  an 
hour  before,  saying  to  himself  over  and  over: 

"  Now,  why  the  deuce  did  Garraboy  come  back  ?  " 

He  approached  the  table  and  abstractedly  took  an 
almond  and  began  munching  it.  Then,  perceiving 
the  chafing-dish,  reached  over,  with  a  smile,  and  lifted 
the  cover.  But,  at  the  moment  his  hand  was  out 
stretched,  his  eyes,  obeying  some  mysterious  instinct, 
rose  to  a  long  Venetian  mirror  opposite.  In  the 
clear  reflection  that  showed  the  balcony  of  the  sec 
ond  floor,  he  distinctly  beheld  the  head  of  a  woman 
protruding  a  little  beyond  the  curtain. 

"  What  the  deuce !  "  he  said,  covering  the  chafing- 
dish  with  a  bang  "  It  can't  be  Rita  —  who  then?  " 

All  at  once  he  comprehended.  If  the  ring  had  not 
been  found  in  the  search,  it  was  because  it  had  been 
concealed  in  the  room,  and  the  woman  in  the  balcony 
was  a  detective  set  to  watch  the  trap  —  if  the  real 
thief  had  the  daring  to  return. 

At  this  moment  Rita  Kildair  entered  from  the  bed 
room. 


74  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Good  heavens,  Rita !  "  he  said  directly.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  say  you  suspect  me  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said,  stopping  short, 
her  glance  instinctively  seeking  the  balcony. 

"  I  mean  you've  stuck  a  detective  up  there  to  see 
what  I  do  the  moment  I  come  into  the  studio.  Good 
heavens!  what  do  you  think  I  came  for?  " 

"  My  dear  Teddy,"  she  said,  frowning  at  the  stu 
pidity  of  her  spy,  "  is  there  any  one  who  can't  be 
suspected  ?  Do  you  blame  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not/'  he  blurted  out  "  Only,  it 
gives  a  fellow  a  deuced  creepy  feeling  to  have  a 
couple  of  eyes  looking  through  him  from  behind  the 
curtain.  I  say,  why  don't  you  search  the  place? 
The  ring  must  be  here !  " 

"  That  is  possible,  of  course,"  she  said  thought 
fully,  her  lip  between  her  little  teeth,  an  impulsive 
movement  when  she  was  plunged  in  thought. 

"  Or  are  you  waiting  for  the  thief  to  come  back 
here  and  try  to  recover  it?  Of  course,  that's  the 
plan." 

"  There's  one  thing,"  she  said,  with  a  quick,  im 
perative  gesture,  looking  at  him  closely,  "  I  want 
you  to  remember.  There  is  nothing  public  to  be 
known.  Whatever  is  done  must  be  done  quietly." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  he  said  hastily.  "  I  say,  Rita, 
let  me  try  to  work  this  out  with  you  —  give  me  your 
confidence !  I  wish  you  would." 

She  considered  a  moment,  as  though  puzzled  by  his 
offer. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  ever  be  found,"  she  said, 
shaking  her  head  and  looking  at  him. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  75 

"  But  you  suspect  some  one,"  he  persisted. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  shook  her  head. 

"  No." 

The  second's  delay  convinced  him. 

"  Man  or  woman?  " 

"  It  is  only  a  speculation,"  she  answered  slowly, 
"  but  I  believe  it  was  a  woman." 

"Both  times?" 

"  Both  times." 

He  took  a  turn,  moodily  disturbed,  and  came  back. 

"  Tell  me  this,  Rita,"  he  said.  "  Who  else  came 
back  here  tonight?  " 

"  Garraboy,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  and  —  Mrs. 
Cheever." 

"  Mrs.  Cheever ! "  he  exclaimed,  astonished. 
"  Why,  she  was  on  the  verge  of  prostration." 

Mrs.  Kildair  smiled  a  thin,  elusive  smile,  and  was 
about  to  reply  when  there  came  a  ring  at  the  door. 

Instantly  her  manner  changed.  Placing  her  ringer 
on  her  lips,  at  the  same  time  sending  him  a  glance 
that  commanded  the  utmost  silence,  she  took  his  hand 
and  led  him  softly  from  the  studio,  through  her  bed 
room  into  the  further  obscurity  of  the  dining-room, 
which  was  lit  only  by  the  weak  reflection  which  fil 
tered  through  from  the  hall. 

"  Sit  here,  and  not  a  sound,"  she  said,  placing  her 
lips  so  close  to  his  ear  that  he  felt  the  warm  contact  of 
her  cheek.  She  gave  him  a  slight  pressure  of  her 
fingers,  and  went  back  into  the  studio  by  way  of  her 
bedroom,  closing  both  doors. 

Beecher,  left  in  the  darkness,  strained  every  nerve 
to  catch  the  sound  that  would  reveal  the  identity  of 


76  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

the  new  arrival.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  the 
sound  of  another  woman's  voice,  and  then  presently, 
as  a  shadow  came  to  him  through  the  twilight  of  the 
hall,  he  heard  Mrs.  Kildair  saying: 

"  —  to  telephone.     Be  back  in  a  moment." 

The  next  instant  she  was  at  his  side,  pressing  his 
hand  to  prevent  the  whisper  that  was  on  his  lips. 
They  sat  thus  side  by  side  for  what  seemed  a  full  five 
minutes  before  she  rose  and  silently  passed  into  the 
hall  again.  Beecher  remained  in  complete  bewilder 
ment,  unable  to  detect  the  slightest  sound  of  the  con 
versation  that  was  taking  place.  That  the  same  test 
was  being  applied  to  the  new-comer  which  he  himself 
had  detected,  he  understood;  but  which  one  of  the 
many  guests  it  might  be,  he  could  not  discover. 

At  the  end  of  an  interminable  interval,  he  heard  a 
few  faint  sounds,  the  closing  of  the  outer  door,  and 
presently  the  rustle  of  Mrs.  Kildair's  approach. 

"  Come  now,"  she  said,  waiting  for  him  in  the  hall. 

"  Who  came  back  then  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can  not  tell  you  —  at  least,  not  now.  There 
are  reasons  why  it  would  not  be  quite  fair,"  she  said. 
Then,  seeing  his  irritation,  she  tapped  him  on  the  arm 
and  added:  "Listen,  Teddy.  It  is  too  late  to  talk 
over  things.  Run  away  now.  Come  in  tomorrow 
at  five." 

"  I  want  to  help,  you  know,"  he  said,  taking 
her  hand,  guiltily  conscious  of  the  smile  with  which 
she  examined  him  —  a  smile  that  seemed  to  convict 
him  of  treason.  For  the  moment,  however,  the  mem 
ory  of  the  younger  woman  was  dimmed.  He  was 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  77 

conscious  only  of  the  indefinite  lure  of  mystery  which 
Rita  Kildair  always  exerted  over  his  curiosity  the  mo 
ment  they  were  alone. 

"  Look  here,  Rita/'  he  said  impulsively,  "  I  should 
think,  in  a  case  like  this,  you'd  want  all  the  help  you 
can  get ! " 

Her  smile  disappeared.  She  looked  at  him  a  mo 
ment  with  almost  a  masculine  penetration,  and  then, 
her  smile  returning,  said  quietly : 

"  It's  curious,  but  each  person  who  came  back  here 
tonight  came  back  just  to  —  help." 

Not  only  her  words,  but  her  manner,  struck  him 
with  a  sense  of  discomfort. 

"  Come  in  tomorrow,"  she  said,  pushing  him 
gently  toward  the  door.  She  made  a  quick  little 
motion  with  her  fingers,  looked  at  him  with  a  pene 
trating  seriousness,  and  disappeared,  leaving  him 
thoroughly  confused  and  irritable. 

"  Why,  she  acts  as  though  she  suspected  me ! "  he 
said,  remembering  her  continual  examination.  "  Who 
the  deuce  came  back  then?  What's  Garraboy  in  all 
this  ?  Does  he  suspect  me,  too,  and  has  he  been  say 
ing  anything  to  Rita?  What  is  terrible  in  such  a 
situation  is  that  any  one  may  be  suspected."  Sud 
denly  he  perceived  that  he  had  repeated  the  very 
words  that  Nan  Charters  had  used  in  the  coupe. 

"  By  George,  what  a  rotten  mess !  I  feel  like  a 
pickpocket  already,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  cold  hor 
ror  in  his  back.  "  Why  shouldn't  Rita  suspect  me  as 
well  as  any  one  else  ?  This  is  no  pleasure  party ;  this 
is  serious  —  dead  serious.  I've  got  to  work  it  out !  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

TEDDY  BEECHER  was  a  fair  representative  of 
the  second  generation.  He  still  retained  the 
rugged  democracy  of  the  father  who  had  fought  his 
way  to  a  moderate  fortune  in  the  troubled  regions  of 
the  coal-fields.  To  him  a  man  was  a  man,  whatever 
the  quality  of  his  coat.  Left  an  orphan  at  fourteen, 
he  had  passed  victoriously  through  boarding-school 
and  college  without  seriously  troubling  the  peace  of 
mind  of  those  who  were  competing  for  scholarship 
honors.  He  was  liked  because  he  liked  every  one, 
not  with  a  politic  assumption,  but  from  a  veritable 
enjoyment  of  life  and  men. 

After  graduation,  he  had  gone  West  on  a  ranch 
with  several  of  his  classmates,  for  the  pure  love  of 
adventure  and  the  delights  of  the  great  open  spaces. 
Having  thus  begun  his  education,  he  continued  it  by 
knocking  about  the  world,  with  periodic  excursions 
in  search  of  big  game.  He  had  known  a  great  many 
types  of  men  without  knowing  them  in  the  least,  and 
he  appealed  to  all  women  without  being  deeply  im 
pressionable  to  their  influence.  His  philosophy  of  life 
was  very  well  summed  up  in  a  remark  he  had  made 
on  his  return  to  New  York  —  that  he  would  probably 
go  to  work  if  he  couldn't  find  anything  better  to  do. 

When  he  awoke  the  day  after  Rita  Kildair's  party, 
it  was  with  the  clear  and  dispassionate  vision  of  the 

morning.     The  dramatic  occurrences   of  the  night 

78 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  79 

before  flashed  instantly  into  his  consciousness,  arous 
ing  all  the  energy  of  his  young  curiosity.  He  re 
called  the  promise  to  solve  the  mystery  he  had  made 
in  a  moment  of  enthusiasm,  and  with  a  renewed  zest 
began  to  consider  how  he  should  prove  himself. 

Several  things  immediately  rose  up  to  perplex  him 
in  the  strange  and  dramatic  climaxes  at  which  he  had 
assisted  —  the  twisted  undercurrents  of  which  he  was 
still  completely  ignorant.  Why  had  Garraboy,  and 
then  Rita  Kildair,  adopted  an  attitude  of  suspicion 
toward  him  when  he  had  returned  ?  For  Garraboy's 
hostility  he  found  a  ready  answer  in  the  mutual  an 
tagonism  that  had  risen  from  the  first  exchange  of 
glances;  but  the  reception  he  had  received  at  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Kildair  thoroughly  mystified  him. 

"  Of  course,  if  the  ring  wasn't  found  in  the  search," 
he  said,  getting  out  of  bed  and  ringing  for  his  man, 
"it's  got  to  be  in  the  studio;  of  course  —  no  way 
around  that.  Whoever  took  it  the  second  time  didn't 
get  much  opportunity  to  hide  it,  either  —  unless  it 
was  hidden  after  the  candle  was  lit;  there  was  a 
chance  then  —  every  one  was  stumbling  around. 
By  Jove!  I  believe  that's  how  it  was  done.  But 
then,  why  the  deuce  should  more  than  one  person 
return?" 

He  stopped  and  suddenly  remembered  his  own  re 
turn. 

"  That's  so ;  a  man  might  come  back  to  offer  help. 
But  why  a  woman?  And  who  the  deuce  came  back 
after  I  did  —  Miss  Lille  or  Mrs.  Bloodgood?  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  on  Charles,  whom 
he  had  inherited  with  one  half  of  the  luxurious  apart- 


80  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

ment  from  Freddie  Duyckerman,  who  had  gone  to 
England  for  the  hunting  season. 

"  Your  bath  is  ready,  sir,"  he  said,  standing  with 
that  perfectly  vacuous  expression  which  had  been 
carefully  trained  to  express  neither  joy,  grief,  hilar 
ity,  nor  the  natural  surprise  which  he  might  have  ex 
perienced  at  beholding  his  master,  brush  in  hand, 
standing  absent-mindedly  before  a  great  copper  plat 
ter  that  was  near  the  window. 

"  Telephone  up  to  the  stables ;  I'll  take  Judy  to 
day,"  said  Beecher,  passing  into  the  bathroom. 

A  touch  of  the  cold  shower  set  his  nerves  to  tin 
gling  and  sent  his  mind  to  recalling  pleasantly  the 
pretty  faces  of  the  evening  before,  after  the  manner 
of  young  gentlemen  of  leisure  with  a  proper  share 
of  vanity.  Two  figures  rose  immediately  —  Rita 
Kildair  and  Nan  Charters.  He  remembered  them 
both  without  excitement,  but  with  different  emo 
tions. 

"  By  George,  Rita's  a  thoroughbred,"  he  said. 
"  She  has  them  all  beat  —  mysterious  as  a  sphinx. 
Prettiest  sight  in  the  world,  seeing  her  manipulate  a 
crowd.  Jove,  but  she  has  nerve ! "  Then  he  re 
flected  a  little  guiltily  that  he  had  rather  deserted  her 
for  other  shrines,  and  he  resolved  enthusiastically  to 
make  amends  by  throwing  himself,  heart  and  soul, 
into  the  recovery  of  the  ring. 

"  By  George,  it's  something  to  have  the  confidence 
of  a  woman  like  that!  "  he  exclaimed,  sublimely  fatu 
ous.  "  That  old  mammoth  of  a  Slade  would  give  ten 
years  of  his  life,  I'll  bet,  to  stand  where  I  do  with 
her." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  81 

Then  he  remembered  Nan  Charters,  with  a  little 
movement  of  impatience  at  the  thought  of  his  senti 
mentality. 

"  What  the  deuce  got  into  me  last  night  ?  "  he  said, 
displeased  with  himself.  "  I  acted  like  a  school-boy. 
I  suppose  she  thinks  she's  got  me  on  her  scalp-belt  — 
easy  as  a  stage-door  Johnny.  What  the  deuce  got 
me  wabbling  so?  These  actresses  are  full  of  tricky 
stuff." 

He  resolved  that  he  would  show  her  his  complete 
indifference  by  not  calling  for  at  least  a  week,  maybe 
two,  and  concluded,  with  profound  penetration: 

"  Good  game.  She'll  remember  how  I  started  in, 
and  wonder  what  changed  me.  That's  it  —  keep  'em 
guessing." 

He  went  into  the  dining-room,  where  the  coffee 
was  boiling  in  the  percolator,  and  sat  down,  after  as 
suring  himself  by  a  trip  to  the  opposite  bedroom  that 
Bo  Lynch  was  still  sleeping  the  profound  sleep  of  the 
unjust. 

But  hardly  had  he  begun  on  the  iced  grape-fruit 
when  a  lank  figure  in  peppermint  pajamas  appeared  at 
the  doorway,  brushing  from  his  sleep-laden  eyes  the 
long  wisps  of  hair  which,  carefully  treasured  to  con 
ceal  the  bare  upper  regions,  now  hung  about  his 
sharp,  supercilious  nose. 

"  Why  the  devil  don't  you  breakfast  with  a  chap?  " 
he  said,  emerging. 

"  Hello,  Bo,"  said  Beecher  pleasantly.  "  Up  till 
four  or  five,  training  for  your  polo  match  this  after 
noon  ?  " 

"  Well,  Fontaine  was  there ;  we  call  it  pairing  off." 


82  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Auction?" 

"  Yes,  damn  it.  I  cut  that  little  wild  ass  of  a 
Plunket  six  times  running.  He'd  gamble  away  his 
grandmother  on  a  couple  of  aces.  I  say,  Teddy," 
he  continued,  with  a  little  more  animation,  emptying 
a  bottle  of  mineral  water  which  Charles,  knowing 
what  might  be  termed  the  regularity  of  his  habits, 
had  set  out  for  him,  "  do  you  ever  try  a  flier  in  the 
market?" 

"  I  have  been  such  a  fool." 

"  Look  here ;  I've  got  a  sure  thing.  Eddie  Fon 
taine  gave  it  to  us  last  night  —  in  dead  secrecy,  of 
course.  Worried  it  from  the  old  man,  and  you  know 
old  man  Fontaine  is  the  real  thing.  The  whole  At 
lantic  Trust  business  was  patched  up  at  a  conference 
yesterday  afternoon.  Majendie's  to  get  all  the  back 
ing  he  needs." 

"Well,  what  of  that?" 

"  Why,  you  ignoramus,  that  means  the  banks  have 
let  up  on  the  trust  companies  and  are  coming  to  the 
support  of  the  market.  Everything's  'way  down  be 
low  where  it  ought  to  be.  Stocks'll  go  up  twenty 
points  in  two  weeks.  I've  taken  another  thousand 
of  Northern  Pacific  myself.  Better  get  in  on  it." 

"  Thanks ;  I'll  circulate  my  money  on  a  horse-race 
—  something  I  know  about.  By  the  way,  Majendie 
was  there  last  night." 

"  He  was,  was  he?  "  said  Lynch,  with  more  anima 
tion.  "  How  did  he  seem?  " 

"  Cool  as  a  cucumber,"  said  Beecher,  who,  how 
ever,  was  surprised  to  find  how  little  he  remembered 
of  any  one  else's  conduct.  "  I  was  in  at  one  of  Mrs. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  83 

Kildair's  affairs.  By  the  way,  Nan  Charters  was 
there." 

"Oh,  was  she?"  said  Lynch  sleepily,  hesitating 
between  the  call  of  his  bedroom  and  the  cooling  as 
pect  of  the  waiting  grape-fruit. 

"  Know  anything  about  her?  "  asked  Beecher,  per 
ceiving  he  would  gain  nothing  by  indirection. 

"  Never  met  her,"  said  Lynch.  "  Charlie  Lorraine 
was  crazy  about  her  a  couple  of  years  ago.  We 
thought  he  was  going  to  marry  her.  I  believe  they 
were  engaged,  or  had  an  understanding." 

"No  scandal?" 

"  Oh,  she's  perfectly  straight.  Charlie  s  a  good 
proposition,  but  that  didn't  seem  to  hurry  her  any. 
She  has  a  lot  of  'em  buzzing  after  her." 

"  I  say,  Bo,"  said  Beecher  suddenly,  "  did  you 
ever  run  up  against  a  fellow  called  Garraboy  ?  " 

"What's  he  do?" 

"  He's  a  broker." 

Lynch  reflected,  yawning  behind  his  hand.  His 
occupation  in  life  was  supposed  to  be  stocks  and 
bonds,  according  to  the  city  register. 

"  Nope,  never  heard  of  the  fellow." 

"  Who'd  know  at  the  club?  " 

"  Ask  Jack  Lindabury  or  Tom  Bovee.  Well,  ta-ta ; 
I'm  going  to  sleep  out  a  bit  for  the  match.  Tell 
Charles  to  default  me  to  the  manicure  and  the  scalp- 
ist,"  said  Lynch,  who  termed  thus  the  prim,  middle- 
aged  person  who  had  guaranteed  to  preserve  his  num 
bered  hairs.  "  By  the  way,  how  about  a  little  bet  on 
the  match  ?  I'll  give  you  six  to  five." 

"  Done  for  fifty,"  said  Beecher  obligingly. 


84  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  See  you  at  luncheon/'  said  Lynch,  who  was  soon 
heard  plunging  heavily  into  bed. 

Beecher  belonged,  without  yet  being  one  of  them, 
to  that  set  who  live  what  in  England  is  called  a  gen 
tleman's  life  —  racing,  hunting,  playing  polo,  seek 
ing  the  sensations  of  big  game  or  big  fish,  rather 
courting  danger,  drinking  hard  as  a  matter  of  pride, 
on  the  theory  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  consuming 
the  night  in  battles  of  cunning  and  physical  endur 
ance  at  the  card-table.  Beecher  had  returned  to  this 
society  partly  because  most  of  his  friends  "  belonged," 
partly  because,  being  an  idler  himself,  he  liked  their 
busy  days  dedicated  to  sensation,  and  their  curious 
standards  of  what  was  and  what  was  not  permitted  to 
be  done.  He  had  not  as  yet  plunged  into  the  whirl, 
being  more  curiously  interested  in  the  various  sides 
of  New  York  life  that  opened  before  him.  He  pre 
served,  in  the  midst  of  the  nervous  American  excess 
of  his  companion,  a  certain  old-world  moderation. 
He  entered  their  card  games  in  a  desultory  way  for 
an  hour  or  two  at  a  time,  but  without  that  engulfing, 
brutal  passion  for  mastery  which  kept  Bo  Lynch  at 
the  card-tables  until  dawn.  When  he  joined  a  group 
at  the  bar,  he  drank  with  them  as  long  as  he  wished 
and  no  longer  —  a  difficult  matter  where  a  with 
drawal  usually  was  greeted  with  taunts;  but  there 
was  about  Beecher,  young  as  he  was,  an  atmosphere 
of  authority  which  came  from  having  proved  himself 
among  men  the  world  over. 

He  was  rising  from  the  table  when  the  telephone 
rang,  and,  mindful  of  his  afternoon  engagement  with 
Rita  Kildair,  he  refused  an  invitation  to  join  a  party 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  85 

to  the  polo  match.  A  call  from  Bruce  Gunther 
urged  him  to  be  one  of  a  gay  party  of  six,  bent  on  a 
lark  for  the  evening. 

He  enjoyed  a  furious  gallop  in  the  park,  dressed, 
and  swung  alertly  up  the  Avenue  to  his  club  for 
luncheon. 

There,  all  the  talk  was  of  the  stock  market  which 
had  gone  up  several  points  on  the  morning's  trad 
ings.  Bo  Lynch  and  Eddie  Fontaine  buttonholed 
him  and  besought  him  to  avail  himself  of  the  oppor 
tunity:  it  was  the  chance  of  a  lifetime,  the  crisis  was 
over,  stocks  simply  had  to  go  up.  The  friends  of 
Majendie,  who  was  one  of  the  directors  of  the  club, 
were  relieved  and  jubilant.  He  had  weathered  the 
crisis;  there  was  nothing  more  to  fear.  The  story 
which  was  told  from  lip  to  lip  as  being  direct  from 
headquarters  was,  that  at  the  meeting  on  the  after 
noon  before,  Fontaine  had  declared,  with  his  fist  on 
the  table,  that  he  would  never  be  a  party  to  any  move 
ment  that  would  jeopardize  the  future  of  his  lifelong 
friend,  Bernard  Majendie.  Some  who  still  clung  to 
the  short  interest  even  added,  with  an  air  of  know 
ing  more  than  they  could  tell,  that  the  attack  would 
now  be  concentrated  on  the  Associated  Trust,  with 
the  intention  of  making  an  example  of  John  Slade, 
a  Western  intruder  who  was  protected  by  no  ties  of 
association  and  friendship. 

Beecher,  true  to  his  habits  of  caution,  laughingly 
refused  all  offers  to  double  his  fortune.  Bruce  Gun 
ther  drew  him  aside,  outlining  his  program  for  the 
evening. 

The  thought  of  Nan  Charters  came  into  Beecher's 


86  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

mind,  and  he  wondered  curiously  if  she  would  be 
there. 

"  I  say,  Bruce,  what's  all  this  hip-hurrah  ? "  he 
asked  as  Gunther  led  him  to  the  dining-room  and 
they  took  seats  at  the  long  mahogany  table.  "  Has 
Majendie  really  pulled  through?  Is  the  story  true 
about  Fontaine  ?  Would  you  go  into  the  market  ?  " 

"  They  tell  it  on  Fontaine  now,  do  they  ?  "  said 
Gunther,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  It  started  with  my 
old  man,  but  I  guess  he  was  too  tough  a  weight  to 
carry.  Ted,  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you,  but 
I  know  this  —  keep  out." 

"  My  opinion,"  said  Beecher,  nodding  to  a  new 
arrival. 

Bruce  Gunther  was  his  closest  friend  —  a  chum 
from  boarding-school  days.  He  was  a  stocky,  rather 
ugly  type,  direct  to  the  point  of  rudeness,  with  more 
than  a  trace  of  his  father's  power.  Gunther  Senior 
had,  from  a  long  and  merciless  examination  of  men, 
come  to  regard  youth  as  a  natural  malady,  an  ebulli 
tion  of  heated  blood  to  be  lived  down  before  a  man 
was  fit  for  great  opportunities  and  the  vision  of  great 
affairs.  When  young  Gunther  was  graduated,  he 
called  him  to  his  desk,  wrote  him  out  a  check,  and 
told  him  to  take  five  years,  sow  his  oats,  and  be 
through  with  it  —  at  the  end  of  which  time  his 
career  would  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  great  bank 
ing  offices  of  Gunther  &  Company,  New  York,  Lon 
don,  and  Paris.  Young  Gunther  was  now  complet 
ing  the  last  year  of  his  contract  with  a  compressed 
savageness  that  would  have  wrecked  any  but  the 
strongest  constitution.  At  heart  he  awaited  the  end 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  87 

of  his  holiday  with  a  feeling  of  relief  and  enthusiasm. 
He  was  quite  unspoiled,  and  a  terror  to  sycophants 
and  boot-lickers.  It  was  these  sturdy,  passionate 
qualities  of  energy  and  directness  in  him  that  had 
attracted  Beecher. 

"  Bruce,  I'm  on  a  very  curious  chase,"  he  said, 
pushing  back  from  the  table,  "  and  I  want  your  help. 
It's  too  long  and  too  confidential  to  tell  you  now. 
But  two  things  I  wish  you  would  do  for  me:  find 
out  all  you  can  quietly  about  two  men  —  Enos 
Bloodgood  and  a  fellow  called  Garraboy,  a  broker." 

"  Garraboy  —  the  brother-in-law  ?  "  said  Gunther 
instantly.  They  left  the  table  and  went  for  cigars 
and  coffee  to  the  first  room,  to  a  window  that  gave 
on  the  Avenue.  "  I  know  him.  He  was  black 
balled  here  a  couple  of  years  ago.  There  were  some 
ugly  stories  about  him;  I'll  look  'em  up.  Blood- 
good's  another  matter.  I  have  heard  rumors  he  was 
hard  hit  by  the  market.  It's  easy  enough;  I  know 
several  men  I  can  call  up.  Can't  you  tell  me  the 
whole  thing  now  ?  " 

When  Beecher  had  finished,  Gunther  remained  a 
long  moment  immersed  in  reflection. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,  that  is  a  problem,"  he  said, 
suddenly  waking  up.  "The  dickens  of  a  tangle! 
What  the  deuce  was  Slade  doing  there  ?  "  He  re 
lapsed  into  silence  again,  and  as  suddenly  said  de 
cisively  :  "  You're  wrong  on  one  point,  Ted.  It's 
not  Garraboy  or  Bloodgood  we  ought  to  suspect  first ; 
it's  Cheever  —  the  Cheevers." 

"How  the  deuce  are  we  going  about  it?"  said 
Beecher. 


88  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  suppose  Mrs.  Kildair  wants  the  whole  thing 
kept  quiet,"  said  Gunther,  rapping  absent-mindedly 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Naturally ;  besides,  I  promised." 

"Of  course.  Well,  we'll  begin  in  a  practical  fash 
ion.  You  don't  mind  spending  a  little  money,  do 
you?" 

"  I  expect  to." 

Gunther  rose  and  went  to  the  telephone  booths, 
where  he  remained  for  some  time. 

"  Half-past  six  in  my  rooms,  Ted,"  he  said,  re 
turning.  "  I'll  put  you  up  against  the  most  inter 
esting  character  in  the  United  States  —  a  real  detect 
ive.  Dress  and  come  over." 

"  But  the  girls,"  objected  Beecher,  remembering 
their  engagement. 

"  The  girls  can  go  hang,"  said  Gunther,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "  They  can  always  wait  half  an  hour. 
This  is  something  real." 

At  five  o'clock  Beecher  called  on  Mrs.  Kildair,  and 
found  her  out,  to  his  considerable  vexation.  The 
bell-boy  gave  him  a  little  note,  which  he  opened  and 
read: 

DEAR  TEDDY: 

Forgive  my  breaking  my  engagement.  All  sorts  of  sud 
den  and  exciting  things  have  crowded  in  on  me  to-day. 
Come  to-morrow  for  luncheon. 

RITA. 

P.  S.     Remember  —  nothing  public  about  last  night! 

The  prospect  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  Mrs.  Kildair 
appeased  him  somewhat,  but  his  anticipations  for  the 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  89 

afternoon  were  sorely  disappointed,  and  he  started 
aimlessly  back,  with  a  feeling  that  a  great  hole  had 
been  made  in  the  day.  As  he  reached  the  corner, 
a  red  automobile  cut  in  close  to  the  curb,  causing  him 
to  step  hastily  back.  Inside  he  recognized  Slade. 
He  watched  the  red  machine  come  to  a  stop  before 
Mrs.  Kildair's  and  then  whirl  away,  after  depositing 
the  massive  figure  of  its  owner.  Beecher,  with  a 
little  wounded  vanity,  lingered  a  moment,  hoping  to 
see  him  reappear;  but,  as  the  sidewalk  continued 
empty,  he  was  forced  to  conclude  that  he  had  come 
by  appointment. 

"  She  might  at  least  have  seen  me,"  he  said 
angrily.  "  What  the  deuce  has  she  got  to  see  Slade 
for?"' 

All  at  once  he  perceived  that  his  steps  had  led  him 
in  the  general  direction  of  the  quarter  in  which  Nan 
Charters  resided,  and,  as  he  had  come  to  make  an 
impression  on  one  woman,  he  soon  began  to  con 
sider  transferring  his  attack  on  another.  Only,  he 
remembered  that  he  had  determined  to  treat  Miss 
Charters  with  indifference,  to  correct  any  erroneous 
ideas  that  she  might  have  formed  from  his  previous 
impulsive  conduct. 

"  That's  so,"  he  said,  angry  now  at  himself,  at 
her,  and  at  a  condition  of  affairs  that  left  him  with 
an  hour  of  idleness  on  his  hands.  "  If  I  call  now, 
she'll  think  I'm  hot  on  the  trail.  I  could  stop, 
though,  and  inquire  about  her  health,"  he  thought, 
hesitating;  "that  would  seem  natural,  after  last 
night." 

But  he  rejected  this  as  a  subterfuge,  and  continued 


90  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

his  slow,  uneven  progress  down  Seventh  Avenue, 
which  he  had  selected  at  random  in  search  of  a  little 
oddity  and  interest ;  and  gradually  he  recognized  that 
the  vexation  he  felt  was,  in  reality,  not  at  being  un 
able  to  find  an  excuse  for  calling  on  Miss  Charters, 
but  the  keen  sense  of  disappointment  he  had  in  miss 
ing  an  intimate  hour  with  Rita. 

It  was  essentially  the  woman  of  the  world  in  her 
that  fascinated  him,  the  woman  of  mysterious  ex 
perience,  of  sure  knowledge  and  complete  command 
of  situations.  He  wished  to  increase  the  intimacy  of 
his  position,  because  to  be  favored  by  her  meant 
something  —  something  that  awoke  his  masculine 
sense  of  supremacy  and  fed  his  vanity.  Determined 
on  a  long  bachelorhood  that  would  open  to  him  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  society  and  adventurous  ex 
periences,  he  had  determined  likewise  to  avoid  the 
dangerous  field  of  young  girls  of  his  own  set  and  to 
exercise  his  curiosity  with  women  of  the  world  — 
older  women,  professional  women,  with  whom  an  im 
pulsive  infatuation  brought  no  risks,  but  something 
to  be  taken  at  value,  a  mood  that  was  charming  be 
cause  it  would  pass. 

All  at  once  an  idea  came  to  him  that  reconciled 
his  easily  satisfied  conscience  and  appeared  sublimely 
politic.  He  would  drop  in  on  Nan  Charters,  just  to 
show  his  indifference. 

"I'll  stay  fifteen  minutes  —  be  quite  formal  and 
a  little  bored,"  he  said,  chuckling. 

And  he  went  without  too  much  enthusiasm  to 
ward  his  destination,  thinking  of  Rita  Kildair  and 
planning  in  his  imaginative  mind  a  series  of  con- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  91 

fidential  conversations  for  the  tete-a-tete  on  the 
morrow. 

"  To  see  Miss  Charters/'  he  said,  giving  his  card 
to  the  boy  in  the  elevator,  who  turned  it  over  doubt 
fully,  hesitated,  and  disappeared  like  a  float  in  an 
opera,  mounting  heavenward. 

Beecher  ceased  to  think  of  Rita  Kildair,  and  pre 
pared  himself,  smiling  astutely,  for  his  approaching 
scene  with  the  young  actress  whom  he  intended  prop 
erly  to  discipline  for  her  effrontery  in  imagining  that 
he  —  Edward  T.  Beecher  —  had  entertained  for  a 
moment  any  other  than  a  polite  social  interest.  Miss 
Charters  excused  herself  —  she  was  lying  down  and 
dining  out. 

He  cast  a  furious  look  at  the  telephone-booth,  by 
means  of  which  she  might  personally  have  assured 
him  of  her  great  regret,  and  stalked  out  in  a  worse 
temper  than  ever  —  Rita  Kildair,  Nan  Charters,  all 
the  women  in  the  world  consigned  to  perdition. 

"  Confound  them  all ! "  he  said,  brandishing  his 
cane.  "  What  a  lot  of  time  a  man  wastes  over  them. 
She  might  have  telephoned  me.  They  only  exist  in 
this  world  to  distract  us  from  what  we  ought  to  do. 
I  wonder  if  she  did  it  on  purpose  —  just  to  give  me 
an  appetite.  Well,  if  she  did  —  she's  succeeded/' 
he  said  ruefully. 

He  went  to  his  rooms,  resolved  to  meet  her  at 
every  opportunity,  to  revenge  himself  by  showing 
her  he  could  play  the  game  more  cleverly  than  she 
could;  and  in  his  angry  resolve  there  was  very  little 
trace  of  the  indifference  of  which  he  had  been  so 
confident. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GUNTHER  had  a  suite  in  one  of  the  newer 
hotels  that  tower  over  the  eastern  entrance  to 
the  park.  When  Beecher  arrived,  a  quiet,  powerfully 
built  man  was  standing  in  front  of  the  fireplace, 
smoking  with  enjoyment.  Beecher  recognized  im 
mediately  Cyrus  McKenna,  formerly  of  the  United 
States  Secret  Service,  founder  of  the  great  detective 
agency  that  bore  his  name. 

"  Ted,  shake  hands  with  my  good  friend  Mr.  Mc 
Kenna,"  said  Gunther,  appearing  in  the  doorway 
with  a  refractory  collar  in  his  grasp.  "  McKenna, 
shake  hands  with  Mr.  Beecher.  Fire  away,  Ted. 
I'll  be  out  in  a  second." 

"  Glad  to  know  you,"  said  McKenna,  grasping  his 
hand. 

Beecher  wras  aware  of  the  quick,  estimating 
scrutiny  and  a  sense  of  unusual  physical  vitality. 
But  he  was  disappointed  in  his  first  glance  at  this 
man  whose  investigations  had  been  the  terror  of 
corrupt  politicians  and  unscrupulous  agitators.  Mc 
Kenna  was  physically  the  ideal  detective,  in  that  not 
a  feature  possessed  a  trace  of  oddity  which  could  be 
tray  him  to  the  public,  in  which  he  thus  mingled 
without  fear  of  recognition.  He  was  neither  short 
nor  tall,  neither  thin  nor  unusually  heavy.  His  head 
was  round,  wrell-spaced,  and  evenly  formed,  without 
affectation  of  mystery  or  astuteness,  lit  up  by  a  jovial 

92 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  93 

good  humor  when  animated,  and  quite  blank  and  in 
decipherable  when  in  repose.  The  eyes  alone,  like 
the  eyes  of  a  painter  or  a  sculptor  seeking  tones  or 
modelings  that  escape  the  common  glance,  were  no 
ticeable  for  a  certain  quality  of  penetration,  ex 
pressed  in  the  countenance  by  innumerable  fine  lines 
that  gathered  in  the  eye-pits. 

"  Mr.  McKenna,"  said  Beecher,  who  had  an  in 
stinctive  desire  to  impress  the  detective  with  the 
lucidity  of  his  observations,  "  I  will  give  you  quickly 
the  details  that  are  important.  First,  here  is  the  plan 
of  the  apartment,  which  may  or  may  not  be  of  use." 

He  went  to  the  low  table-desk  at  the  side,  and 
drew  out  paper  and  pencil.  McKenna  brought  up 
a  chair  at  his  side,  and  Gunther,  coming  in,  sat  down 
opposite. 

"  It  concerns  the  theft  of  a  ruby  ring  worth  over 
fifteen  thousand  dollars/'  said  Beecher,  busy  with  his 
pencil,  "  taken  last  night,  between  eight  and  eleven, 
at  the  apartment  of  Mrs.  Rita  Kildair.  The  circum 
stances  are  so  extraordinary  that  you  will  be  inter 
ested  in  the  problem  itself." 

The  detective  smiled  in  a  slightly  amused  way  and 
asked : 

"  Am  I  retained  in  her  interest  or  in  yours  ?  " 

"  In  mine,"  said  Beecher  quickly.  "  The  theft  took 
place  at  a  social  gathering,  you  understand,  and  in 
the  party  were  persons  well  known  in  New  York 
society.  Mrs.  Kildair,  as  is  natural,  particularly  de 
sires  that  nothing  shall  become  public." 

"  Does  she  know  that  you  intend  to  consult  me?  " 

"  No  —  and  I  am  not  sure  I  wish  her  to  know." 


94  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Is  she  employing  detectives  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Whom  did  the  ring  belong  to  ?  " 

"  To  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  Beecher,  annoyed  that 
he  had  forgotten  this  rather  important  detail. 

"  Let  me  see  the  plan,"  said  McKenna,  who 
glanced  at  it  a  moment  and  nodded.  "  Now  go 
on." 

"  There  were  eleven  persons  present,  including 
Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  Beecher,  after  a  moment's  pause. 
McKenna  took  the  pencil  and  prepared  to  inscribe 
the  list.  "Myself,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanley  Chee- 
ver— " 

"  I  can  give  you  a  pointer  on  them,"  said  Gunther, 
speaking  for  the  first  time. 

"  Unnecessary,"  said  McKenna.  "  I  know  the 
card  episode." 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bloodgood." 

"  Mrs.  Bloodgood  —  yes." 

"Mr.  Garraboy." 

"Joseph  L.  or  Edward  C.,  the  broker?" 

"  The  broker.     Miss  Nan  Charters." 

"  The  actress  —  yes." 

"  Miss  Maud  Lille." 

"  Know  anything  about  her  ?  " 

"  She's  a  journalist;  writes  books  too,  I  believe." 

"Well?" 

"  Bernard  L.  Majendie  and  John  Slade." 

The  detective  raised  his  eyebrows  in  surprise. 

"  They  were  there  —  together?  " 

"  They  came  separately.  Slade  joined  the  party 
at  the  last  moment;  he  was  not  expected." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  95 

"  A  very  interesting  crowd,"  said  the  detective 
slowly,  studying  the  list.  "  What  servants  ?  " 

"  None." 

"You  are  sure?" 

"  Mrs.  Kildair  has  only  two,  a  Japanese  butler  and 
a  lady's  maid,  both  of  whom  were  out." 

"  You  are  positive  ?  " 

"  Absolutely.  The  occasion  was  an  informal  sup 
per.  Mrs.  Kildair,  while  preparing  the  dishes,  placed 
her  three  rings  on  the  pin-cushion  of  her  dressing- 
table  —  at  this  point  here  on  the  plans  —  fastening 
them  with  a  hatpin.  The  table,  as  you  see,  can  be 
easily  seen  both  from  the  studio  and  the  dining- 
room." 

"  What  were  the  circumstances  of  her  placing  the 
rings  on  the  pin-cushion?  First,  when  did  it  occur? 
After  all  the  guests  had  arrived?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Beecher,  who  immediately  corrected 
himself.  "  No,  I'm  wrong ;  Slade  arrived  later. 
But,  as  I  say,  he  was  a  surprise.  Majendie  was  the 
last  of  the  invited  party  to  come.  Immediately 
afterward  Mrs.  Kildair  went  into  her  bedroom  to 
put  on  an  apron  and  take  off  her  rings." 

"  Who  was  in  the  room?  " 

"  Mrs.  Cheever,  Miss  Lille,  and  Garraboy,"  said 
Beecher  slowly. 

'  They  saw  her  take  off  the  ring?  " 

'  Yes;  they  even  announced  it  later." 

"  Was  there  much  passing  to  and  fro  ?  " 

"  All  the  time.  I  am  quite  sure  every  one  was  in 
the  room  several  times." 

"Did  any  one  use  the  hall?"  said  the  detective, 


96  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

indicating  it  on  the  plan.  "  I  see  it  opens  into  the 
dining-room  also." 

"  Quite  a  number/'  said  Beecher.  "  I  remember 
using  it  myself.  We  were  all  going  and  coming, 
carrying  dishes,  glasses,  bottles,  provisions." 

"  One  question :  did  you  notice  the  ring  on  the  pin 
cushion  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  distinctly  remember  seeing  two  or  three 
rings,  I  don't  remember  which." 

"  Go  on." 

"  After  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour  of  prep 
aration,  we  took  our  places  at  the  table,  with  the 
exception  of  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  was  still  moving 
about  us.  It  was  then  that  Slade  came  in,  was  in 
troduced,  and  took  his  place." 

"He  did  not  pass  into  the  bedroom,  then?" 

"  No.  Mrs.  Kildair  went  in  immediately,  took 
off  her  apron,  and  discovered  the  loss  of  the  ruby 
ring." 

Beecher,  without  further  interruptions  from  Mc- 
Kenna,  recounted  in  detail  the  return  of  Mrs.  Kildair, 
the  locking  of  the  doors,  the  extinguishing  of  the 
lights,  the  announcement  of  the  theft,  the  beginning 
of  the  counting,  the  sound  of  the  ring  on  the  table, 
and  the  discovery  of  its  second  disappearance. 
Then  he  stopped,  awaiting  the  questioning  of  the 
detective. 

"  No ;  go  right  on,"  said  McKenna,  with  a  little 
gesture  of  his  pencil  that  dotted  an  imaginary  i. 

Beecher  continued,  describing  the  lighting  of  the 
lights,  the  confusion  in  the  room,  the  sending  for 
the  detectives,  the  discussion  as  to  the  order  of 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  97 

search,  and  the  failure  to  recover  the  ring.  Omit 
ting  his  personal  observations  of  Miss  Charters  and 
their  conversation  in  the  cab,  he  recounted  his  return 
to  Mrs.  Kildair's,  his  meeting  with  Garraboy,  the 
discovery  of  the  detective,  the  strangeness  of  Mrs. 
Kildair's  attitude,  and  her  concealment  of  the  identity 
of  the  next  visitor.  He  concluded,  and  both  young 
men  looked  at  the  detective  as  if  they  expected  him 
to  solve  the  problem  on  the  instant  —  an  attitude  that 
was  not  lost  on  McKenna. 

"  I  suppose  you  young  men  believe  every  word 
that  has  been  written  on  deduction,"  he  said,  grin 
ning  and  biting  off  the  end  of  another  cigar.  "  Pre 
sume  you've  already  determined  that  a  woman  took 
the  ring,  and  lacked  the  nerve  to  face  the  risk  —  that 
the  strong,  daring  nature  of  a  man  seized  the  op 
portunity  the  second  time,  and,  because  Slade  and 
Majendie  are  millionaires  and  Bloodgood  the  re 
spectable  owner  of  a  newspaper,  the  thief  is  either 
Garraboy,  a  gambler  in  stocks,  or  Cheever,  with  an 
ugly  reputation." 

The  two  young  men  smiled  guiltily. 

"  But  I  say,  McKenna,  you  don't  reject  deduction 
entirely,"  said  Gunther. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  believe  in  '  deduction  forward/  "  said 
McKenna,  laughing.  "  If  I  know  there's  a  thief  in 
the  company,  I  deduce  he'll  steal  if  he  gets  the  chance. 
Now,  before  I  put  a  few  more  questions  to  you,  let 
me  tell  you  this.  My  business  isn't  in  deducing  how 
the  theft  was  done  (I  get  my  man  and  sweat  him 
out;  he'll  tell  me  that),  but  who  did  it;  and  for  that 
it  don't  take  any  deduction,  either.  Give  me  time, 


98  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

money,  and  no  strings  on  me,  there  isn't  any  crime 
can't  be  worked  out." 

"  But  how  the  deuce  are  you  going  to  locate  a 
ring,"  said  Beecher,  "  if  you  don't  know  whom  to 
follow?" 

"  The  ring's  the  easiest  part,"  said  the  detective. 
"  You  may  not  know  it,  but  every  stone  of  great 
value  is  what's  called  a  named  stone;  every  jeweler 
knows  of  it.  Now,  there  aren't  many  rubies  worth 
over  fifteen  thousand  floating  around.  If  you  don't 
believe  it,  I'll  show  you  how  easy  it's  done.  Inside 
a  week  I'll  give  you  the  history  of  the  stone  and  just 
how  it  came  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Kildair." 

"  You  mean  no  one  can  dispose  of  it  to  a  jeweler 
without  its  being  recognized  ?  " 

"  Unless  he's  done  it  within  these  twenty-four 
hours,  which  is  quite  probable  if  a  certain  suspicion 
of  mine  isn't  far  wrong." 

"  Deduction,"   said  Gunther,  laughing. 

"  Not  entirely ;  and,  besides,  that's  not  quite  fair. 
It  just  happens  that  I  may  be  interested  in  a  couple 
of  persons  in  your  party  from  another  tack.  No, 
gentlemen;  deduction's  all  right,  if  it's  honest  deduc 
tion  and  if  you  use  it  in  its  place;  but  the  great 
thing's  motive.  Ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred, 
get  down  to  your  motives  and  you  get  your  criminals. 
Show  me  the  person  who  needed  to  steal  that  ring, 
or  who  just  simply  had  to  steal  it,  and  you've  got 
your  man." 

"  But  suppose  that  applies  to  two  persons  there, 
or  even  three/'  said  Gunther,  who  perceived  that  the 
detective  did  not  intend  to  commit  himself. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  99 

"  Possibly." 

"  Or  it  may  be  the  hysterical  act  of  a  woman  who 
will  never  attempt  to  sell  the  ring." 

"  Possible  —  more  than  possible." 

"  And  then  it  will  never  be  found." 

"That's  right." 

"  But  you  don't  think  that's  the  case,"  said  Gun- 
ther.  "  And  you  have  an  opinion." 

McKenna  gave  him  a  quick  look  of  appreciation. 

"  That's  right ;  but  it's  not  who  took  it,  but  why 
it  was  taken.  In  forty-eight  hours  I'll  know  a  little 
bit  more  about  the  habits  of  the  ladies  and  gentle 
men  we're  dealing  with,  and  then  I'll  be  more  com 
municative."  He  paused,  with  a  little  pardonable 
pleasure  in  the  mystification  he  was  preparing,  and 
added :  "  In  forty-eight  hours  I'll  give  you  a  little 
story  about  each  of  the  persons  who  were  at  that 
party  which'll  beat  anything  in  the  story-telling  line 
you  ever  came  up  against.  Now,  Mr.  Beecher,  be 
fore  we  get  down  to  questions,  here's  one  thing  I 
want  you  to  do.  Find  out  from  Mrs.  Kildair  what's 
her  detective  agency.  Say  you've  a  friend  who's  try 
ing  to  track  a  valet  for  stealing  and  want  a  good 
address  —  see  ?  " 

"You  are  not  going  to  shadow  the  detectives?" 
said  Gunther  curiously. 

"  You  bet  I  am,  till  I  know  more  about  them,"  said 
McKenna.  "  Young  man,  I  can  tell  you  more  than 
twenty  cases  I've  been  on  where  the  detective  who 
was  called  in  to  make  a  search  went  cahoots  with  the 
thief." 

"  Detectives !  "  said  Beecher,  amazed. 


100  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

'  You  bet.  I  don't  trust  my  own,  when  I've  got 
anything  that's  got  to  be  done  right.  I  don't  trust 
any  one  man ;  I  put  two  on  it.  My  dear  fellow,  the 
crooks  that  pick  your  pocket  or  break  into  your 
house  are  only  amateurs.  The  real  criminal,  the 
criminal  of  brains,  joins  a  police  force,  becomes  a 
detective,  a  clerk,  goes  slowly,  gets  to  be  a  cashier 
or  president  of  a  bank.  You  think  I'm  joking. 
Not  at  all.  Look  here;  just  stop  and  think  it  over, 
and  you  won't  laugh.  For  every  bank  president  who 
takes  the  funds  of  his  bank,  speculates,  and  loses, 
how  many  do  you  think  win  out  and  never  get 
caught?" 

"  That's  so,"  said  Gunther  thoughtfully. 

"  It's  too  big  a  subject,"  said  McKenna,  smiling. 
"  I  shake  hands  every  day  with  gentlemen  who  ought 
to  be  breaking  rocks.  Now,  let's  get  back  to  bus 
iness.  Mr.  Beecher,  what  did  you  notice  of  any 
kind  last  night  that  would  make  you  suspect  any 
one?  I  don't  mean  opinions,  but  eyes." 

Beecher  hesitated  an  interval  that  did  not  escape 
the  notice  of  the  detective. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  at  last,  unwilling  to  mention 
the  name  of  Nan  Charters.  He  added,  to  cover  the 
hesitation :  "  I  suspected  Garraboy,  but  I  admit 
there's  no  proof  —  personal  dislike." 

"Why  do  you  dislike  him?" 

Beecher  shrugged  his  shoulder  and  his  glance  went 
to  one  side. 

"  Mr.  Gunther,  will  you  get  me  my  office  ?  "  said 
McKenna,  suddenly  looking  at  his  watch.  "  You 
know  the  number." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  101 

Gunther  disappeared  in. the' hall  in,  search  of  the 
telephone. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  McKenna,  smiling, 
"  I'm  like  a  doctor,  you  know.  There's  no  use  call 
ing  me  in  unless  you  give  me  all  the  facts.  What's 
the  name  of  the  lady  who  excited  your  suspicion, 
whom  Mr.  Garraboy  was  so  attentive  to,  and  on  ac 
count  of  whom,  I  rather  guess,  you  got  interested 
in  this  case?  " 

The  startled  look  Beecher  gave  him  amply  grati 
fied  McKenna,  who  continued: 

"  What's  Miss  Charters'  position  in  this  busi 
ness?" 

Beecher  admitted  the  correctness  of  the  surmise 
wTith  a  laugh,  and,  Gunther  being  absent,  quickly  re 
counted  the  different  moments  of  Nan  Charters' 
agitation  and  the  conversation  in  the  cab. 

At  this  moment  Gunther  returned.  "  I  say,  Mc 
Kenna,"  he  said,  "  some  one's  trying  to  get  you  on 
the  wire." 

McKenna  passed  to  the  telephone,  and  almost  im 
mediately  returned. 

"  Look  here,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  if  you  want  to 
try  your  hand  at  deduction,  here's  something  to  work 
on.  The  Clearing-house  has  just  refused  to  clear 
for  the  Atlantic  Trust,  Majendie's  resignation  has 
been  accepted,  and  tomorrow  there'll  be  a  run  on 
every  bank  in  the  city  —  and  God  help  those  who're 
caught  in  the  stock  market !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  two  young  men  and  McKenna  descended 
by  the  elevator  into  the  lobby  of  the  hotel.  The 
news  of  the  Clearing-house's  drastic  action  against 
the  Atlantic  Trust  was  already  in  the  scare-heads  of 
the  evening  papers,  though  Majendie's  resignation 
was  still  unknown.  The  halls  were  crowded  with  a 
fleet  of  newspapers,  spread  out,  fluttering  feverishly. 
Everywhere  was  a  suppressed  murmur  and  nervous 
tension,  which  occasionally  exploded  in  exclamations 
when  acquaintances  met.  The  news  was  indeed 
staggering  to  the  little  man  of  the  Street;  the  great 
Atlantic  Trust  with  its  hundreds  of  millions  of  de 
posits  was  on  the  verge  of  collapse  and  this  at  the 
end  of  a  period  of  depression  and  alarm! 

As  they  proceeded  toward  the  carriage  entrance, 
Gunther  stopped  to  speak  to  one  of  the  clerks  at 
the  desk,  who,  with  a  frightened  face,  came  out  to 
seek  his  advice.  McKenna  profited  by  the  moment 
to  say  to  Beecher: 

"  By  the  way,  if  you're  a  friend  of  Miss  Charters', 
find  out  if  she  has  any  money  invested  in  Wall  Street, 
and  who  she's  dealing  through." 

"  Does  it  mean  a  panic  ?  "  said  Beecher,  surprised. 
"  Do  you  mean  she  ought  to  get  out  ?  " 

"Too  late,"  said  McKenna.  "Find  out  what  I 
asked  you.  I'm  in  a  hurry.  Say  good-night  to  Mr. 

Gunther  for  me.     And,  say,  if  you're  so  interested 

102 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  103 

in  this  case,  get  him  to  put  you  wise  to  Majendie 
and  Mrs.  Bloodgood." 

He  gave  a  quick  nod,  and  mingled  in  the  crowd 
about  the  north  entrance.  Beecher  watched  him 
with  a  feeling  of  disillusionment.  The  detective  had 
expressed  no  opinion,  had  brought  to  bear  on  the 
problem  none  of  the  instantaneous  analysis  which  he 
had  expected;  in  fact,  had  deliberately  avoided  even 
a  discussion  of  the  natural  probabilities.  Had  this 
complete  reticence  been  associated  with  an  individual 
ity  of  impressive  oddity,  he  would  have  perhaps  re 
garded  it  with  respect.  As  it  was,  he  was  conscious 
only  of  being  defrauded  as  though  some  one  were 
tearing  away  a  precious  illusion. 

"  There's  a  poor  devil ;  got  all  his  money  tied  up 
in  the  Atlantic  Trust,"  said  Gunther,  joining  him 
and  passing  out  to  the  waiting  automobile. 

"The  Atlantic  Trust  can't  fail,"  said  Beecher, 
amazed.  "  Things  aren't  as  bad  as  that." 

"  Don't  know.  Lots  of  queer  things  have  been 
worked  lately.  Anyhow,  what's  bound  to  happen 
is  —  I  should  say  —  a  receivership  and  closed  doors 
to-morrow." 

"  But  that  means  panic." 

"  Sure." 

Beecher  was  silent  a  while.  He  thought  of 
Majendie  of  the  night  before,  correct,  restrained, 
prodigal  of  small  courtesies. 

"  By  Jove,  how  game  he  was ! "  he  said  aloud. 
"  I  should  hate  to  think  there  was  anything  crooked 
in  him." 

They  had   reached   Forty-second   Street   in   their 


104  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

smooth  and  rapid  flight.  There,  newsboys  were 
shrieking  the  latest  extra,  dodging  under  the  heads 
of  horses,  swinging  on  the  steps  of  surface-cars, 
bumping  their  shrill  way  through  the  crowd,  with 
their  hysterical  instinct  for  heightening  the  effect  of 
a  sensation. 

Gunther  stopped  the  automobile  and  bought  a 
handful  of  papers  which  a  dozen  urchins  fought  to 
press  into  his  hands.  On  every  sheet,  front  page, 
accompanied  by  sudden  scare-heads,  was  the  photo 
graph  of  Bernard  L.  Majendie,  whose  resignation 
had  been  demanded  and  accepted. 

The  two  scanned  the  pages  for  additional  details. 
Some  papers  hinted  at  criminal  actions  —  the  dis 
trict  attorney  had  been  suddenly  summoned  to  town. 
Scattered  through  the  sheets  were  photographs  en 
titled,  "  Majendie's  Palace  on  Fifth  Avenue." 
"  $100,000  Yacht  of  Deposed  President."  "  New 
port  Estate  of  Millionaire." 

"  Is  he  a  crook  after  all  ?  "  said  Beecher,  flinging 
down  the  extra. 

"  No,  he  is  not  a  crook,"  said  Gunther  quietly,  re 
peating  the  words  with  slow  emphasis.  "  He  is  a 
speculator,  a  great  speculator,  and  he  has  been  made 
the  victim  of  greater  speculators  who  covet  his  terri 
tory.  Then,  there  is  this  to  be  said:  I  doubt  if  at 
the  present  moment  any  great  public  corporation 
would  face  an  investigation  without  alarm." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Beecher,  with  his 
thoughts  still  wandering  back  to  the  handsome,  stoic 
features  of  the  Majendie  of  the  night  before. 

Gunther  began  to  speak,  and,  as  he  became  serious 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  105 

and  animated,  Beecher  followed  him  with  surprise, 
noting  the  vigor  and  vitality  that  transformed  the 
young  idler. 

"  The  present  era  we  are  passing  through,"  said 
Gunther,  "  is  probably  America  at  its  worst.  We 
see  only  the  gorgeous  facades  of  things:  the  sky 
scraper,  the  industries  that  have  developed  into  little 
kingdoms.  We  only  try  to  comprehend  statistics, 
and  we  are  satisfied  that  we  have  bounded  into  great 
ness.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  true  test  of  the  in 
dustrial  greatness  of  a  country  is  honesty.  Dis 
honesty  and  graft  are  economic  weakness  — \vaste. 
A  railroad  that  is  spending  a  million  a  year  to  fight 
off  hold-up  state  laws  is  by  so  much  handicapped 
in  its  function  of  promoting  commerce  by  low  freight 
rates.  A  corporation  that  secures  its  franchise  by 
bribing  aldermen  has  taught  them  to  blackmail  in 
the  future.  It  is  difficult  to  say  where  the  respon 
sibility  began  —  whether  capital  corrupted  politics, 
or  whether,  in  our  unscientific  political  system,  cor 
ruption  was  not  inevitable." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  At  this  time,  when  our  political  history  is  one  of 
business  development,  we  are  over-burdened  with 
useless  offices.  Aldermen  and  legislators  who  re 
ceive  on  an  average  less  than  a  thousand  a  year  — 
often  less  than  it  costs  to  be  elected  —  are  suddenly 
intrusted  with  the  responsibilities  of  laws  and  fran 
chises  involving  millions.  When  you  ask  yourself 
how  a  man  is  to  continue  a  political  career,  support 
a  family,  and  fight  a  costly  fight  for  reelection  on  a 
thousand  a  year,  the  wonder  is  that  any  remain  hon- 


106  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

est.  We  have  not  the  slightest  conception  of  values 
in  America;  the  worst  paid  professions  are  those  the 
vigor  of  the  nation  depends  on  most  —  the  minister, 
the  teacher,  and  the  legislator.  There  are  ministers 
living  on  five  hundred  a  year,  teachers  on  six  hundred, 
legislators  on  less,  while  the  carpenter  or  plumber 
who  doesn't  make  at  least  $5  a  day  is  unorgan 
ized."  Then,  perceiving  that  he  had  wandered  from 
his  subject,  he  added:  "You  see,  Ted,  this  state  of 
affairs  results:  politics  becomes  the  business  of  busi 
ness.  Industry  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  legislator,  and 
the  legislator  knows  it.  He  may  restrict  the  field  of 
business  of  insurance  companies,  prohibit  others 
from  operating  in  his  state,  add  or  detract  from  the 
wealth  of  individuals  by  tariffs,  force  the  adoption 
of  certain  building  material  on  contractors,  regulate 
rates  of  railroads  and  force  them  to  adopt  certain 
life-preserving  devices;  can  create  rival  franchises  or 
tax  out  of  existence  corporations  that  refuse  to  pay 
its  blackmail. 

"  That  is  why  there  are,  back  in  the  secret  life  of 
every  great  business,  ledgers  it  is  not  good  the  pub 
lic  should  see.  That  is  one  reason  why  business  goes 
into  politics,  nominates  its  men,  and  assists  them  — 
in  order  to  protect  itself  against  strikes  and  black 
mail.  The  great  political  alliance  of  business  is  al 
most  always  expressed  by  the  railroad  which  is  the 
natural  agent.  All  this  is  known;  every  newspaper 
that  will  shriek  out  horrified  editorials  next  week 
knows  this;  but  when  the  Atlantic  Trust  is  caught 
in  a  business  depression,  and  is  unable  to  get  ready 
money  from  influences  it  has  antagonized,  the  pub- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  107 

lie  will  learn  only  that  one  institution  has  secretly 
contributed  to  a  political  party,  maintained  a  huge 
fund  for  lobbying  purposes,  made  loans  on  securities 
that  were  speculative,  and  transgressed  the  letter  of 
the  law.  The  public  will  be  indignant,  and  Majendie 
will  be  disgraced." 

"  But,  Bruce,"  said  Beecher,  who  was  thinking  of 
the  analysis  that  had  been  made,  "  if  we  are  so  rid 
dled  with  corruption,  where  is  it  all  going  to  end?  " 

"  The  end  will  come  in  the  opening  of  another 
phase  of  national  life.  We  will  become  honest 
through  the  purifying  process  of  another  generation. 
Honesty,  you  see,  has  this  one  great  advantage  over 
corruption  —  it  is  the  goal  of  corruption.  Those 
who  acquire,  wish  to  retain,  to  resist  those  who  in 
turn  wish  to  graft  from  them.  Stealing  was  an  at 
tribute  of  distinction,  until  men  came  to  live  together. 
The  next  generation  will  purify  and  reorganize." 

"  I  didn't  know  you'd  gone  into  things  so  deeply," 
said  Beecher,  impressed. 

"  I've  worked  like  a  pup  since  I  started  to  amuse 
myself,"  said  Gunther,  with  a  laugh. 

The  automobile  drew  up  before  the  glittering 
doors  of  Lazare's,  and  a  gilded  footman,  recognizing 
it,  flashed  obsequiously  to  their  door. 

"  Say,  let's  cut  this  out,"  said  Gunther,  frowning. 
"  I'm  out  of  the  mood  now.  Let's  run  off  for  a 
chop  and  a  baked  potato  somewhere.  I'm  tired  of 
this." 

"  Too  late,"  said  Beecher,  laughing  and  pointing 
to  an  upper  window  where  a  feminine  arm  was  wav 
ing  frantically.  "We're  caught."  Then,  suddenly 


108  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

he  remembered  the  hint  of  McKenna's,  and  added: 
"  I  say,  what's  the  story  about  Majendie  and  Mrs. 
Bloodgood?  I'm  not  up  on  the  gossip,  you 
know." 

Gunther  signaled  impatiently  to  the  flunky  to  close 
the  door,  and  related,  what  every  one  knew,  the  at 
tachment  of  the  financier  and  the  wife  of  the  owner 
of  the  New  York  Star. 

"Of  course,  every  one  believes  what  he  chooses 
in  such  matters,"  he  said.  "  Personally,  knowing 
Majendie,  I  believe  it's  purely  platonic  —  such  things 
do  happen.  He  has  a  sort  of  old-fashioned  chivalry, 
you  know.  Bloodgood  is  a  hard  old  nut,  leads  his 
own  life  —  chorus  girls'  friend  and  all  that  —  thirty 
years  older  than  his  wife  —  parents  got  her  into 
it  —  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  took  advan 
tage  of  the  situation  to  touch  up  Majendie  through 
the  Atlantic  Trust  for  a  good-sized  loan.  The 
rumor  was  that  Mrs.  Bloodgood  was  to  get  a  divorce. 
If  so,  it  may  have  been  held  up  by  this  rotten  busi 
ness.  One  thing's  clear :  she's  crazy  about  Majendie, 
and  doesn't  care  who  sees  it  —  poor  devil.  Well, 
let's  get  out." 

They  entered  Lazare's,  saluted  by  a  sudden  storm 
of  clatter,  music,  and  shrill  laughter.  Lazare  him 
self,  seeing  Gunther,  came  up  hurriedly,  anxiety  in 
his  olive  face,  while  several  employees  hovered  near, 
with  eager  ears.  Gunther  exchanged  again  a  few 
words  on  the  financial  situation,  and  led  the  way  into 
the  elevator. 

"  McKenna's  a  great  one,"  he  said.  "  Rather 
puzzled  you,  didn't  he?  There's  no  show  about  him 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  109 

—  he's  direct.  You'll  see  the  way  he  works.  It'll 
be  a  revelation/' 

Beecher  did  not  answer. 

The  disclosure  of  the  relations  of  Majendie  and 
Mrs.  Bloodgood  had  suddenly  recalled  the  suspicion 
that  had  come  to  him  the  night  before,  while  fol 
lowing  the  agitation  of  Nan  Charters;  and  he  was 
asking  himself,  in  a  bewildered  manner,  if  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  desperate,  perhaps  on  the  verge  of  a 
separation,  had  not  in  an  uncontrollable  moment 
taken  the  ring.  Gunther  continued  in  praise  of  Mc- 
Kenna : 

"  It's  the  organization  that's  wonderful.  It's  like 
a  spider-web,  and  McKenna  sits  in  the  center  and 
pulls  the  threads.  What  the  public  never  gets  is 
this  —  that  half  of  trre  work's  done  before  McKen- 
na's  on  the  case.  He  knows  to-day  where  every 
forger  is  living,  every  cracksman.  He's  got  his  in 
formers  in  every  saloon,  in  every  cheap  hotel,  where 
thugs  congregate.  If  a  bank's  robbed,  nine  times  out 
of  ten  he  can  tell  in  a  day  who's  done  the  job,  be 
cause  he  knows  who's  disappeared  from  his  regular 
haunts.  A  detective  agency  is  a  great  news  bureau 
that  never  prints  its  news." 

"  I  guess  the  case  is  more  complicated  than  I 
thought,"  said  Beecher,  struck  by  the  new  lead.  "  It 
begins  to  look  as  though  a  whole  lot  of  persons  might 
have  taken  the  ring." 

"Thinking  of  Mrs.  B?"  said  Gunther  quickly. 

'"  Yes,"  said  Beecher  meditatively.  They  were  in 
the  corridor  leading  to  the  private  dining-rooms. 
He  put  his  hand  out  and  checked  his  companion. 


110  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  say,  who's  Madame  Fornez  ?  " 

"Opera  squealer,"  said  Gunther  irreverently; 
"  Carmen  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Bob  Holliday's 
daffy  about  her.  Come  on;  let's  face  the  music." 

He  nodded  to  the  attendant  waiting  with  extended 
ears,  who  now  sprang  forward  to  open  the  door  on 
the  flaring  room  and  the  dazzling  white  of  the  richly 
covered  table  set  for  five. 

Holliday  and  two  women  in  decollete  instantly 
burst  into  exclamations  of  reproach. 

"  Sorry ;  couldn't  be  helped  —  business/'  said 
Gunther,  without  taking  the  pains  for  a  more  elabo 
rate  apology.  Then,  sure  of  his  explanation,  he 
added :  "  You  probably  missed  it.  Poor  old  Majen- 
die's  up  the  spout.  Forced  resignation.  There'll  be 
the  devil  to  pay  to-morrow." 

The  reproaches  ceased,  succeede(L  by  a  rush  of 
excited  questions.  Holliday,  a  talf;  scoured  blond, 
who  had  been  drumming  at  the  piano,  was  so  dis 
turbed  by  the  news  that  he  forgot  his  duties  as  a 
host. 

"  Allans,  Bobbie,"  said  Mme.  Fornez,  turning  her 
great  Spanish  eyes  on  Beecher  with  an  expression 
of  approval,  "  introduce  your  nice-looking  friend." 

Beecher,  amid  laughter,  was  presented.  Mme. 
Fornez,  who,  from  pride  perhaps,  chose  to  retain 
the  freedom  of  the  peasant,  tapped  him  familiarly  on 
the  arm  and  said :  "  I  like  you.  You  don't  look  so 
clean  and  stupid  as  most  of  your  dollar  men.  You 
will  sit  by  my  side.  I  select  you.  Monsieur  Gun- 
there,  Bobbie  —  enough  of  your  old  panics  and  your 
stocks;  you  have  two  charming  ladies  present,  that's 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  111 

all  you  need  to  know.     Bobbie,  obey  me  at  once ! " 

Beecher  was  giving  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Craig  Fon 
taine,  a  young  widow,  slight,  with  quick  eyes,  and 
almost  masculine  vitality,  and  an  extraordinary 
elegance  of  dress  and  carriage,  whom  Gunther  called 
Louise.  She  was  scarcely  twenty-six,  possessed  of 
a  large  fortune  from  her  husband,  who  had  been 
killed  in  a  steeplechase  three  years  before.  Her 
position  in  society  was  unquestioned,  and,  being  of  a 
singular  temperament,  she  did  as  she  pleased.  She 
was  seen  everywhere  with  young  Gunther,  and  gos 
sip  had  already  arranged  their  marriage  —  an  even 
tuality  which  she  alone,  who  ambitiously  desired  it, 
knew  to  be  impossible. 

Beecher,  who  was  particularly  sensitive  to  the  air 
of  distinction  that  always  surrounded  her,  even  when 
most  unbending,  took  her  hand  with  a  little  extra 
gallantry,  saying^ 

"  I  changed  my  mind  on  your  account  only, 
Louise,  and  I  expect  you  to  reward  me/' 

Between  the  two,  from  his  college  days,  had  been 
a  sort  of  confidential  intimacy  which  Beecher  had 
the  knack  of  cultivating. 

Holliday  having  ordered  the  dinner,  Mme.  Fornez 
took  special  delight  in  countermanding  everything 
that  could  be  countermanded,  substituting  other 
wines  and  abolishing  the  soup,  scolding  her  escort 
all  the  while  with  a  calculated  tryanny  which  Mrs. 
Fontaine  admired  with  a  slight  smiling  tribute  of 
her  lips,  as  the  clever  advertisement  of  a  professional 
woman  that  Mr.  Holliday's  fetch  and  carry  atten 
tions  were  entirely  on  her  own  sufferance. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"How  have  you  escaped  being  married?'*  said 
Mrs.  Fontaine  in  a  bantering  tone  to  Beecher,  after 
Mme.  Fornez  had  relinquished  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Because  I  fly  like  a  coward,"  he  said,  pleased  at 
the  compliment  implied. 

"  Seriously,  Teddy,  you've  been  back  in  civiliza 
tion  two  months  and  you  are  not  yet  caught?  " 

"  I  am  not  the  marrying  kind,"  he  said,  with  con 
viction. 

"What's  he  say  —  your  Teddy?"  said  Mme. 
Fornez,  turning,  with  a  laugh. 

Beecher  repeated  his  statement 

"Allans  done,  you!"  She  broke  into  a  ripple  of 
laughter.  "  What  do  you  say,  Madame  Fontaine?  " 

Mrs.  Fontaine's  reply  was  a  tolerant,  amused 
smile,  and,  leaning  over,  she  pinched  his  ear. 

Beecher  furiously  defended  himself. 

"  Yes,  that's  what  all  you  women  say.  You  think 
you  can  catch  any  man.  It  irritates  you  to  think  any 
man  can  resist  you." 

"  Ah,  no,  no,"  said  Mme.  Fornez  energetically. 
"  There  are  lots  of  men  who  can't  be  married.  I 
don't  say  that,  but  what  I  say  is  this:  a  woman 
knows,  the  moment  she  meets  one  of  you,  if  he  is 
the  kind  that  marries.  A  clever  woman  knows  if 
she  can  marry  him,  but  all  women  know  if  he  is  the 
marrying  kind  the  moment  they  look  in  his  eye.  Is 
it  not  so,  Madame  Fontaine  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Fontaine  calmly,  with  a 
glance  around  the  table. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Beecher  valiantly;  "  women  are 
as  easily  fooled  as  men." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  113 

Mme.  Fornez,  drawing  back  her  head,  surveyed 
him  critically. 

(<  Teddy,  you  will  marry  the  first  pretty  woman 
who  makes  up  her  mind  to  marry  you,"  she  said, 
tapping  the  table,  amid  laughter.  "I  see  it;  I  know 
it." 

"I  say,  how  do  you  see  it?"  said  Holliday,  who 
was  what  might  be  called  "  un  jaux  Anglais!' 

"  It  is  in  the  eye ;  it  responds  or  it  does  not  re 
spond,"  said  Mme.  Fornez,  who  shrugged  her 
shoulders  in  Holliday's  direction,  and  said :  "  You, 
you  will  never  marry  unless  —  unless  there  is  one 
big  panic.  Teddy,  here,  has  the  responsive  eye.  I 
saw  it  at  once  when  I  said  he  was  a  nice  boy.  Oh, 
you  needn't  be  furious  and  blush,"  she  added,  pulling 
his  other  ear.  "  It  is  quite  right.  I  like  you.  You 
shall  play  with  me.  You  are  much  nicer  than  Bob 
bie,  who  is  all  collar  and  cuffs." 

"And  Mr.  Gunther?"  said  Beecher,  to  cover  his 
confusion. 

Mme.  Fornez  looked  at  him  with  the  same  critical 
estimation. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Gunthere  is  very  interesting,"  she 
said.  "  What  do  you  think,  Madame  Fontaine?" 

She  asked  the  question  with  a  little  of  that  malice 
which  women  can  not  help  showing  toward  one  an 
other.  But  Mrs.  Fontaine,  with  the  perfect  control 
that  never  left  her,  answered  at  once: 

"  Bruce  will  marry,  but  he  is  not  the  marrying 
kind.  He  will  marry  when  he  pleases  and  how 
he  pleases,  not  the  least  sentimentally,  a  woman,  a 
young  gin,  who  will  raise  up  a  family  of  children  — 


114  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

a  son  to  succeed  him,  as  he  will  succeed  his  father/' 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  it,"  said  Mme.  Fornez  excitedly. 
"He  can  not  be  caught;  any  woman  would  know 
that." 

Gunther  smiled  without  embarrassment. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  any  woman  would  know  it,"  repeated  Mrs. 
Fontaine,  looking  at  him  with  a  little  smile.  "  The 
reason  is,  as  Madame  Fornez  says,  in  the  eyes  — 
they  don't  respond.  It's  more  than  that,  they  make 
no  distinction.  They  look  at  a  woman  as  they  do 
at  a  man.  He  is  quite  to  be  congratulated." 

"  Ah,  la  pauvre  femme"  said  Mme.  Fornez  — 
who  was  very  romantic  —  in  a  whisper,  pressing 
Beecher's  arm.  Then  aloud,  taking  pity,  "  Allans, 
mes  enfants,  we  are  getting  too  serious.  Bobbie, 
jump  up  and  play  us  something  lively." 

The  dinner  continued  gaily.  They  reached  the 
theater  in  the  middle  of  the  second  act  of  the  operetta, 
and  deranged  the  whole  orchestra  in  the  five  minutes 
necessary  for  Mme.  Fornez  to  be  sure  that  she  was 
properly  recognized.  Then,  having  carried  off  Elsie 
Ware,  a  dainty  prima  donna  with  the  wiles  and  figure 
of  a  child,  they  proceeded  to  the  party  at  Lindabury's 
studio,  Mme.  Fornez  complimenting  Elsie  Ware  on 
the  quality  of  her  voice,  which  was  insignificant,  and 
saying  nothing  of  her  acting,  which  was  distinguished 
for  its  charm  and  natural  gaiety. 

Beecher,  squeezed  in  between  Louise  Fontaine  and 
Mme.  Fornez,  slightly  bewildered  by  the  fragrance 
of  soft,  filmy  wraps,  immensely  flattered  by  the  favor 
he  had  won,  nevertheless  was  wondering  to  himself 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  115 

whether  among  the  gay  party  he  was  approaching 
would  be  the  laughing  eyes  and  rebellious  ashen  hair 
of  Nan  Charters,  whom  he  intended  to  treat  en 
ennemi,  and  whom  he  particularly  wished  to  witness 
his  triumphant  entry  at  the  side  of  the  celebrated 
Emma  Fornez. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  party  was  in  full  progress  when  they  ar 
rived.  Jack  and  Tom  Lindabury  resided,  as 
far  as  they  could  be  said  to  reside  anywhere,  in  a 
great  green  stone  house  of  the  1860  period,  with  a 
deep  garden  in  the  back  on  which  originally  stood  a 
stable,  access  to  which  was  had,  in  the  Parisian  style, 
by  a  long,  vaulted  passage  at  one  side.  The  Linda- 
burys,  having  discovered,  as  many  other  young  men 
of  fortune  did  at  this  period,  the  social  adaptability 
of  the  artist's  atelier,  had  transformed  the  stable 
into  a  great  studio,  with  a  kitchen  and  two  or  three 
dressing-rooms,  which  served  when  the  place  was 
given  over  to  amateur  theatricals  or  to  the  not  al 
ways  restrained  fetes  of  the  brothers'  invention. 

Gunther's  party  emerged  from  the  hollow  passage 
into  the  sudden  cool  of  the  short  garden,  where 
masked  stone  seats  and  arbors  were  faintly  disclosed 
by  the  great  stable  lantern  which  swung  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  studio.  Several  couples,  profiting  by 
the  obscurity,  could  be  seen  moving  in  the  sudden 
shadows  of  the  garden,  laughing  with  a  nervous, 
stifled  laughter,  as  groups  crossed  or  joined  one  an 
other. 

Holliday  and  Beecher,  recognizing  acquaintances, 
saluted  them  with  the  light  banter,  which  was  the 
note  of  the  evening.  Mme.  Fornez,  inside,  called 
her  companions  with  exclamations  of  surprise  which 

116 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  117 

drew  the  whispered  curiosity  of  every  one  to  her 
entrance. 

"  Oh,  how  funny  it  is!  Look,  Teddy,  what  do 
you  call  it?  It  is  your  —  cowboy  life,  is  it  not?  " 

The  great  room  had  been  transformed  into  a  min 
ing  saloon  of  the  type  made  popular  by  a  certain 
play  of  the  day.  A  bar  ran  across  one  end,  presided 
over  by  an  impossibly  wicked  bartender.  A  roulette- 
wheel  was  crowded  at  one  side,  while  a  negro  orches 
tra,  in  1850  costume,  was  busily  sawing  away,  led 
by  a  cotton-head  darky  on  a  soap-box,  who  droned 
out  his  directions.  Three-fourths  of  the  room  were 
in  costume,  Indian,  Spanish,  cowboy,  or  frontier. 
At  the  appearance  of  the  new  arrivals  in  evening 
dress,  a  shout  went  up : 

"  Tenderfeet,  tenderfeet! " 

"Fine  them!" 

"Shoot  'em  up!" 

But,  in  deference  to  Mrs.  Fontaine  and  Emma 
Fornez,  the  protest  was  not  so  boisterous  or  accom 
panied  by  such  rushing  tactics  as  had  greeted  others. 
Nevertheless  they  were  fined  and  escorted  to  one  of 
the  dressing-rooms.  The  men  were  forced  to  don 
dusters  and  white  top-hats,  and  the  women  were  given 
sombreros  and  mantillas. 

Mme.  Fornez,  despite  the  frowns  of  Holliday, 
clung  to  Beecher's  arm,  insisting  on  being  personally 
conducted,  plying  him  with  innumerable  questions. 

"  Oh,  what  a  terrible  man !  What  an  awful  knife ! 
I  like  the  black  men  —  sont  Us  rigolots  —  with  their 
red  and  white  collars.  I  want  to  see  the  bar-man 
toss  drinks  —  so,  in  the  air,  Teddy.  Come  this  way/' 


118  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

All  at  once  she  stopped,  and,  facing  about,  took 
him  by  the  lapels  of  the  coat. 

"  It  does  not  annoy  you  that  I  adopt  you  —  that 
I  call  you  Teddy?"  she  said,  with  a  simulation  of 
timidity  and  a  sudden  concentration  of  her  swim 
ming  black  eyes. 

"  Emma,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  if  you  stop  there 
I  shall  die  of  disappointment." 

She  frowned  a  little  at  the  "  Emma,"  but  yielded 
the  point. 

44  You  are  not  very  responsive,  Monsieur  Beecher," 
she  said,  with  a  flash,  "  when  I  am  so  nice  to  you." 

"  My  dear  Emma,"  said  Beecher,  who,  not  being 
in  love,  could  see  clearly,  "  if  I  don't  fall  at  your 
feet,  it's  because  I  know  very  well  that  the  mo 
ment  I  did  you  would  bulldoze  me  like  Bob  Holli- 
day." 

Emma  Fornez  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  gay 
approval. 

"  Teddy,  you  are  very  nice,"  she  said  decidedly. 
"  You  understand  how  to  play.  I  forbid  you  to 
fall  in  love,  to  get  caught  by  any  other  woman,  you 
understand.  You  are  to  be  mine  for  the  whole  sea 
son  —  heinf  " 

"  Nothing  promised,"  said  Beecher,  laughing. 

Holliday  came  with  two  or  three  friends,  clamor 
ing  to  be  introduced.  Beecher  profited  by  the  con 
fusion  to  make  the  turn  of  the  room,  which  was 
crowded  with  laughing  groups  striving  to  penetrate 
the  disguises  of  others  while  maintaining  their  own. 
At  the  faro  table,  a  group  from  his  club  called  to 
him  to  join  them,  but  he  kept  on,  saluting  the  dealer, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  119 

costumed  according  to  Bret  Harte,  with  an  approv 
ing  wave  of  the  hand. 

The  assembly  was  one  of  those  curious  social  de 
marcations  which  prevail  when  formal  society  essays 
to  be  Bohemian,  and  which  is  probably  evolved  by 
the  women  in  their  always  curious  desire  to  study 
at  close  range  those  whose  lives  they  are  generally 
condemning.  As  is  usually  the  case,  the  guests  were 
made  up  of  those  who  remained  wrapped  up  in  a 
mantel  of  inquisitive  respectability,  and  would  go 
early;  a  large  body  who  waited  impatiently  for  this 
first  secession;  and  a  certain  element,  not  all  pro 
fessionals,  at  present  exceedingly  punctilious,  who 
would  inherit  the  right  to  put  out  the  lanterns  and 
close  up  the  doors. 

Young  Beecher,  pacing  restlessly,  nodding  and 
smiling,  searched  in  the  crowd  without  quite  admit 
ting  to  himself  what  it  was  he  sought.  In  the  short 
period  of  his  return,  he  had  gone  into  many  different 
sets,  always  retaining  the  prerogatives  of  his  own. 
The  women,  besides  those  of  the  younger  married 
women  whom  he  knew,  were  of  the  opera,  the  stage, 
one  or  two,  even,  whose  names  were  electrically  dis 
played  in  vaudeville.  He  was  caught  up,  greeted  en 
thusiastically,  and  extricated  himself  with  deftness, 
seeking  in  a  general  way  to  reach  the  great  fireplace 
near  which  he  had  detected  the  figure  of  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair. 

The  men,  without  exception,  were  of  his  own  kind 
—  of  that  second  generation  which  is  the  peculiar 
problem  of  America.  They  were  strong,  well  put 
together,  with  heads  chiseled  somewhat  on  the  vig- 


120  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

orous  lines  of  the  father  spirits,  condemned  by  the 
accident  of  wealth  to  the  most  un-American  of  pro 
fessions,  the  idler.  •  Without  the  mental  languor  of 
the  foreign  dilettante,  consumed  in  reality  by  their 
own  imprisoned  energy,  they  were  a  restless,  dis 
satisfied  testimony  of  the  error  of  their  own  civili 
zation,  the  inability  of  the  great,  barbaric,  money- 
acquiring  American  to  comprehend  the  uses  of 
wealth.  Tonight,  threatened  with  tomorrow's  dis 
aster,  stirred  by  the  restlessness  of  the  multitude,  this 
excess  of  baffled  energy  was  felt  everywhere:  at  the 
bar,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  intensity;  at  the  faro  table 
where  the  play  had  a  certain  desperate  counterpart 
of  the  spirit  that  had  assembled  the  future;  in  the 
momentary  sudden  accesses  of  gaiety  that  began  to 
spread  through  the  hesitant  crowd,  as  an  overturned 
bottle  spreads  its  fluid  over  the  cloth. 

Beecher,  too,  without  comprehending  it,  felt  the 
stimulus,  awakening  all  the  nervous  unemployed 
funds  of  energy  within  him  and  the  intoxication 
of  movement  and  laughter  that  brought  him  a  sud 
den  feverish  hilarity,  brought  also  a  sense  of  unrest 
and  dissatisfaction.  Underneath  all  the  over-excited 
spirits  of  frivolity  was  a  current  of  grave  apprehen 
sion  which  he  felt  in  the  occasional  groupings  of 
men  and  the  low  snatches  of  conversation  which 
reached  him. 

"  Bo  Lynch's  cleaned  out." 

" — not  the  only  one." 

" —  and  thousands  thrown  on  the  market." 

"  Eddie  Fontaine's  crowd." 

"  Copper'll  blow  up  higher  than  a  kite !  " 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  121 

«_  if  Slade  goes  too." 

"  They  say  there's  a  line  formed  in  front  of  the 
Atlantic." 

In  his  progress  he  encountered  Jack  Lindabury, 
lank  and  broad-shouldered,  with  the  magnificent  shell 
of  a  head  that  might  have  been  set  on  the  shoulders 
of  a  Gladstone.  They  shook  hands  with  cordiality. 

"  Devil  of  a  mess  about  Majendie,"  said  Linda- 
bury. 

"Are  you  hit?" 

"Of  course;  Eddie  Fontaine's  had  us  all  in  on 
his  tip.  Some  of  the  crowd  are  liable  to  be  wiped 
out.  They  tell  me  Bo  Lynch  had  plunged  every  cent 
in  the  world." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Beecher,  reflecting. 
"Is  he  here?" 

"  Sure ;  he's  the  bartender,"  said  Lindabury. 

Beecher,  surprised,  nodded  and  made  his  way 
toward  the  end  that  had  been  converted  into  a  fron 
tier  saloon,  where,  behind  enormous  mustaches,  he 
recognized  the  long  features  of  his  fellow  lodger. 

"  What'll  y'have?  "  said  Lynch,  in  hoarse  accents. 
Then,  perceiving  that  he  was  recognized,  he  drew 
Beecher  aside  and  said  anxiously: 

"  You  owe  me  fifty,  Ted ;  we  pulled  it  out.  Go 
over  and  stake  it  at  the  table  for  me,  if  you've  got  it." 

"  Sorry,"  said  Beecher,  eying  him  critically  and 
resolving  to  lie. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Lynch  philosophically,  "  it'll  look 
big  as  a  house  to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  cleaned  out,  Bo  ?  "  said  Beecher  anx 
iously. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Oh,  no;  I'm  worth  thousands,"  said  Lynch,  with 
a  grin,  "  until  the  market  opens  to-morrow." 

"  Tough  luck." 

"  Steve  Plunkett's  worse  —  he's  got  to  negotiate 
his  gold  fillings,  they  say." 

A  party  came  up,  clamoring  for  attention,  and 
Lynch  hastened  to  the  rescue.  Beecher  continued 
curiously  toward  the  faro  table,  admiring  with  an 
admiration  tinged  with  compassion  the  sang  froid 
of  the  losers,  who  in  a  desperate  attempt  to  recover 
the  imminent  loss  of  the  morrow,  were  staking  sums 
that  made  the  spectators  raise  their  eyebrows  in 
amazement. 

"  Supposing  that  Jap  came  back  and  sneaked  the 
ring  the  second  time,"  said  Gunther,  taking  his  arm. 

Beecher  started  in  surprise. 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that,"  he  said. 

"  But  I  was.  That  puzzle  of  yours  has  been  run 
ning  in  my  head  ever  since.  I've  got  six  people  now 
absolutely  logically  worked  out  for  the  thief  —  per 
fect  deduction.  Take  me  over  to  Mrs.  Kildair;  I 
want  to  meet  that  woman." 

"  I  say,  Bruce,"  said  Beecher  as  they  started  to 
cross  the  room,  "  it's  going  to  be  an  awful  smash. 
All  the  boys  are  caught.  There'll  be  the  deuce  to 
pay  here  later  on." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  —  they  started  in  pretty 
fierce." 

"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Sure." 

By  the  hazards  of  the  crowd  they  found  them 
selves  opposite  Nan  Charters,  who  was  on  the  arm 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

of  Charlie  Lorraine,  a  clean-cut,  pleasant  type  of 
the  racing  set,  decidedly  handsome  in  a  dark  way. 

"Hello,  fellows,  any  old  clothes  to  give  away?" 
said  Lorraine,  who  had  the  topic  of  the  evening  in 
jest.  "  I  speak  first.  How  the  deuce  did  Eddie  Fon 
taine  miss  you  two?  Heard  what  we  are  doing? 
We  are  organizing  the  Eddie  Club.  Every  one  who's 
taken  his  tip  is  going  up  to  live  on  Eddie's  farm 
for  the  winter  —  great  idea,  eh  ?  " 

While  Gunther  and  Lorraine  were  laughing  over 
this  plan,  a  creation  of  Bo  Lynch's,  Beecher  was 
listening  to  Nan  Charters,  with  a  difficult  attempt 
at  calming  the  sudden  emotion  which  her  appearance 
with  Lorraine  had  fired  within  him. 

"What  a  dreadful  time  you  chose  to  call!"  she 
said  directly.  "  Don't  you  know  that  it  takes  a  mod 
ern  woman  hours  to  mix  her  war-paint?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  little  tantalizing  malice 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Coquette,"  he  thought  furiously.  "  She  is  de 
lighted  because  I  was  ass  enough  to  call  and  give 
her  the  opportunity  to  refuse  to  see  me." 

"  Oh,  not  a  call,"  he  said  aloud,  committing  the 
stupidity  of  lying.  "  I  was  just  rushing  downtown, 
and  stopped  to  inquire  how  you  were  after  last 
night." 

This  answer  brought  a  natural  pause.  Each 
looked  at  the  other,  he  with  defiance,  she  with  laugh 
ter  in  her  eyes. 

"  You're  staying  late,"  he  said  at  last,  because  her 
listening  attitude  forced  him  to  say  something. 

"  Yes,  indeed." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  It'll  be  more  amusing  when  it  thins  out,"  he  said 
in  a  purposely  languid  tone. 

"  When  the  sight-seers  have  left  —  yes,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

Wishing  to  show  what  slight  importance  he  at 
tached  to  the  encounter,  he  contrived  to  nudge  Gun- 
ther  as  a  signal  that  he  was  ready;  but,  his  friend 
proving  insensible,  he  was  forced  to  proceed. 

"  Did  you  come  with  Mrs.  Kildair?  "  he  said  per 
functorily. 

"  No." 

"  With  whom  ?  "  he  asked,  regretting  the  question 
as  soon  as  it  was  uttered. 

"  With  Mr.  Lorraine  —  of  course,"  she  said,  look 
ing  down  modestly,  but  beneath  her  eyelids  he  di 
vined  again  the  cunning  malice. 

At  this  moment,  to  his  delight,  Emma  Fornez 
perceived  him,  and,  being  profoundly  bored  by  her 
chance  cavalier,  a  purely  passive  listener  thoroughly 
bewildered  by  her  sallies,  gave  a  cry  of  joy: 

"  Teddy,  traitor,  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

Dismissing  her  companion  writh  a  bob  of  her  head, 
she  seized  Beecher's  arm,  exclaiming: 

"Heavens  —  save  me!  I  have  been  shrieking  at 
a  deaf-mute." 

In  the  crowd,  the  head  of  her  late  companion 
could  be  seen,  rolling  his  uncomprehending  eyes. 
Beecher,  overjoyed  at  the  arrival,  which  gave  him 
an  advantage  he  was  quick  to  perceive,  nodded  to 
Miss  Charters  and  departed,  exaggerating,  for  her 
benefit,  the  confidential  intimacy  which  Mme.  For- 
nez's  attitude  permitted. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Who  is  that  woman  ? "  said  Emma  Fornez  im 
mediately.  "  She  is  watching  us.  She  doesn't  seem 
pleased.  Tant  pis! " 

"  Nan  Charters  —  one  of  our  younger  actresses." 

"Ah!    Good?" 

"  Yes." 

"  She  is  pretty  —  in  a  way,"  said  Mme.  Fornez, 
using  her  lorgnette,  without  caring  in  the  least  that 
Miss  Charters  perceived  it.  "  Pas  mat  —  pas  mat. 
Not  much  temperament  —  afraid  to  uncover  her 
shoulders.  It  is  not  an  actress ;  it  is  a  woman.  You 
are  interested,  Teddy?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  avec  qa.     You  are  in  love  ?  " 

"  I  met  her  last  night  for  the  first  time." 

"  That's  not  an  answer.  Yes,  you  have  a  guilty 
look.  You  are  a  little  taken  —  she  provokes  you  — 
these  little  dolls  always  do.  I  will  give  you  good 
advice;  I  will  help  you." 

"  How?"  said  Beecher,  a  bit  confused. 

"  I  will  be  very,  very  nice  with  you,"  said  his  com 
panion  gaily,  her  feet  dancing  to  the  music.  "  A 
woman  always  wants  what  another  woman  wants, 
particularly  when  she  is  a  little  actress  and  I  am 
Emma  Fornez.  It's  very  simple,  but  it  never  fails; 
only,  I  will  not  help  you  if  you  are  really  in  love, 
you  understand  ?  " 

Beecher  solemnly  assured  her  that  she  need  have 
no  fear. 

"  Very  well,  then.  Be  sure  to  pay  attention  to 
Madame  Fontaine  too;  she  likes  you.  We  are  the 
two  women  most  distinguished  here  tonight  —  both 


126  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

high,  high  above  your  little  Charters.  It  will  double 
the  effect.  Do  as  I  say;  it'll  be  amusing." 

Gunther  joined  them,  protesting. 

"  I  say,  Madame  Fornez,  it's  not  fair.  We'll  have 
to  get  up  a  Whitecaps  party  and  kidnap  Ted,  if  you 
don't  stop." 

"  Oh,  we  understand  each  other  perfectly,"  said 
Beecher,  delighted  to  perceive  that  Nan  Charters  was 
still  following  his  progress.  "  Whenever  Emma 
wants  to  escape  from  some  one,  she  remembers  that 
she's  crazy  about  me.  It  is  all  arranged." 

Emma  Fornez  burst  out  laughing  and  gave  him 
a  little  pat  on  his  shoulder  with  the  lorgnon. 

"  We  are  —  chums,  you  say  —  hein,  Teddy  ? 
Monsieur  Gunthere  is  different.  I  like  to  talk  with 
him  —  seriously." 

But  at  this  moment,  in  response  to  a  clamor,  one 
of  the  negroes  began  dancing  a  shuffle  in  a  quickly 
formed  circle.  Emma  Fornez  rushed  off,  with  a  cry 
of  delight,  deserting  both  young  men. 

"  You've  made  a  killing,  Ted,"  said  Gunther, 
laughing. 

"  Pooh !  she'll  forget  my  name  tomorrow,"  said 
Beecher,  who,  however,  believed  nothing  of  the  sort. 
"  Come  on." 

Mrs.  Kildair  was  standing  by  the  great  Italian 
fireplace,  her  glance  playing  incessantly  through  the 
crowd,  nodding  from  time  to  time,  but  without  hear 
ing  the  remarks  of  two  or  three  older  men  who  sur 
rounded  her.  So  different  was  the  magnetic  anima 
tion  of  her  whole  attitude  from  the  ordinary  feline 
languor  of  her  pose,  that  Beecher  noticed  it  at  once, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  127 

an  impression  heightened  by  the  flash  of  the  eyes 
and  the  almost  electric  warmth  of  her  hand  as  she 
greeted  him.  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  had  followed  his 
entrance  with  Mrs.  Craig  Fontaine  and  Emma  For- 
nez  and  moreover  was  particularly  pleased  at  his 
presenting  young  Gunther,  was  unusually  gracious. 

Gunther,  with  his  direct,  almost  obtrusive  stare, 
studied  her  with  unusual  curiosity,  conversed  a  lit 
tle,  and  departed,  after  receiving  a  cordial  invitation 
from  her  to  call. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Rita?"  said 
Beecher  immediately. 

"  Matter  —  how  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  so  excited." 

"  Really,  do  I  seem  so  ?  "  she  said,  waving  to  some 
one  on  the  floor. 

"  Extraordinarily  so." 

"  I  am  generally  —  dormant,"  she  said,  laughing. 
"  Yes,  I  am  excited  tonight." 

"  You  are  on  the  track  of  the  ring  —  you  have 
found  it,"  he  said  instantly,  with  a  pang  of  disap 
pointment. 

"  No,  not  that,"  she  said,  with  a  frown. 

An  idea  came  to  him.  He  imagined  that  she  too, 
like  the  good  gambler  he  felt  her  to  be,  was  laughing 
before  the  irretrievable  disaster  of  the  morrow. 

"  Look  here,  Rita,"  he  said  sympathetically, 
"  you're  not  caught  in  the  stock  market,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not."  She  saw  the  look  on 
his  face,  and  was  touched  by  it.  "  Ruined  and  dying 
game?  No,  no;  I  am  excited,  very  much  excited, 
that's  all.  Will  you  ask  me  to  dance,  sir  ?  " 


128  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Are  they  dancing?" 

"Of  course.     Hurry  up!" 

Some  of  the  more  ardent  spirits,  impatient  for 
the  crowd  to  thin  out,  were  whirling  about,  clearing 
an  expanding  circle  by  force  of  their  revolving  at 
tacks.  In  a  moment  they  were  moving  among  the 
dancers. 

Mrs.  Kildair  danced  remarkably  well.  In  this 
lithe  body,  so  pliant  and  yet  so  inspired  with  the 
vertigo  of  the  waltz,  Beecher  was  again  aware  of 
the  strange  excitement  that  seemed  to  animate  her 
whole  being,  and  continued  to  ask  himself  the  cause 
of  such  an  unusual  emotion.  From  time  to  time, 
the  light  fingers  on  his  arms  contracted  imperiously, 
urging  him  to  a  wilder  measure.  He  had  a  strange 
sensation  of  mystery  and  flight,  as  though  he  were 
no  longer  dancing,  but  whirling  around  with  her  in 
his  arms,  each  striving,  in  the  frantic  flight,  to  con 
quer  the  other. 

The  dance  ended.  The  spectators  burst  into  ap 
plause.  Mrs.  Kildair,  half  opening  her  eyes,  thanked 
him  with  a  grateful  smile.  He  walked  away  with 
her  on  his  arm,  agitated  and  troubled.  What  all  the 
brilliance  of  Emma  Fornez  had  not  been  able  to  ac 
complish,  one  touch  of  Rita  Kildair  had  effected. 

"  I've  lots  of  things  to  ask  you/'  he  said  hurriedly, 
remembering  McKenna's  suggestions. 

"  No,  no ;  not  now  —  tomorrow,"  she  said  breath 
lessly,  with  the  same  caressing,  half-veiled  look.  She 
gave  him  her  hand  in  dismissal. 

He  understood.  The  sensation  which  had  come 
in  the  few  moments  of  their  vertigo  had  been  too  ex- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  129 

traordinary  to  be  dimmed  by  a  descent  to  conversa 
tion. 

He  left  her,  as  always,  aware  of  the  artist  in  her, 
that  never  failed  in  the  conception  of  a  situation. 

"  If  I  fall  in  love,  it  won't  be  with  Nan  Charters," 
he  said,  following  Mrs.  Kildair  with  his  eyes. 

Then,  mindful  of  Emma  Fornez's  advice,  he  joined 
Mrs  Fontaine,  staying  with  her  until  she  gave  the 
signal  to  leave  for  those  who  had  come  to  watch. 

With  this  departure,  in  which  Mrs.  Kildair  joined, 
a  certain  element  of  restraint  disappeared.  The  un 
mistakable  rising  note  of  loosened  tongues,  freed 
from  Anglo-Saxon  restraint  by  the  scientifically  con 
trived  punch,  began  to  mount  above  the  rhythmic  beat 
of  the  music,  which  itself  seemed  suddenly  possessed 
of  a  wilder  abandon.  At  the  roulette  table  the  play 
ers,  coldly  concentrated,  continued  in  strained  atti 
tudes,  oblivious  of  all  but  the  blinding  green  nap  be 
fore  them. 

Toward  two  o'clock  the  thirty  or  forty  who  still 
remained  formed  a  circle,  camping  on  the  floor,  In 
dian  fashion,  clamoring  for  songs  and  vaudeville 
turns.  Jack  Lindabury  and  Bo  Lynch  gave  their 
celebrated  take-off  on  grand  opera.  Elsie  Ware, 
riotously  acclaimed,  accompanied  by  an  hilarious 
chorus,  sang  her  famous  successes,  turning  to  and 
fro,  coquetting  with  first  one  man  and  then  another. 

Emma  Fornez,  excited  as  a  child,  without  waiting 
to  be  urged,  ran  to  the  piano  and  struck  the  first 
riotous  chords  of  the  "  Habanera  "of  Carmen.  In 
stantly  there  was  a  scramble  for  the  sides  of  the  long 
piano,  and  when  she  looked  up  again  it  was  into  a 


130  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

score  of  comically  adoring  faces,  each  striving  to  at 
tract  her  attention.  But  Beecher,  first  to  a  position  of 
vantage,  received  the  full  concentration  of  the  diva's 
glances.  Flushed  with  the  peculiar  fleeting  intoxi 
cation  of  exuberant  youth  —  the  knowledge  of  the 
evening's  success  with  women  others  coveted  —  he 
leaned  far  over  the  piano,  resting  his  chin  in  his 
hands,  gazing  with  a  provoking  malice  into  the  eyes 
of  the  singer,  exaggerating  the  intensity  of  his  look, 
maliciously  obvious  of  Nan  Charters,  whom  he  felt 
at  his  side.  Emma  Fornez,  lending  herself  to  the 
maneuver,  opened  her  wide,  languorous  eyes,  sing 
ing  to  him  alone,  with  a  little  forward  leaning  of  her 
body: 

"  U amour   est   enfant  de   la  Boheme, 
II  n'a  jamais  connu  de  loi 
Si  tu  m'aimes" 

The  song  ended  in  a  furore.  Mme.  Fornez 
was  overwhelmed  with  spontaneous  adulation,  and 
Beecher,  laughing  and  struggling,  was  choked  and 
carried  away  by  the  indignant  suitors.  Escaping,  he 
came  back,  happy  and  resolved  on  more  mischief. 
He  had  always  had  a  passion  for  what  is  called  fancy 
dancing,  and  in  Europe  had  learned  the  dances  of  the 
country.  He  proposed  to  Emma  Fornez  a  Spanish 
dance,  and  the  idea  was  received  with  shouts  of  en 
thusiasm.  Every  one  camped  on  the  floor  again, 
while  three  or  four  of  the  men,  converting  their  som 
breros  into  imaginary  tambourines,  shook  them  fran 
tically  in  the  air,  led  by  Bo  Lynch,  who  had  somehow 
procured  a  great  tin  tray. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  131 

"  You  dance  —  are  you  sure  ?  "  asked  Emma  For- 
nez,  looking  at  his  flushed  face  with  an  anxious  look ; 
for  some  of  the  men,  notably  Lorraine  and  Lynch, 
were  in  a  visibly  excited  state. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  confidently. 

"Aliens,  then!" 

The  dance  he  had  chosen  was  one  somewhat  akin 
to  the  tarantella,  a  slow  movement  gradually  and 
irresistibly  singing  up  into  a  barbaric  frenzy  at  the 
climax  —  one  of  those  dances  that  are  the  epitome 
of  primal  coquetry,  of  the  savage  fascinating  allure 
ments  of  the  feline,  provoking  to  the  dancer,  doubly 
provoking  to  the  spectator,  bewildered  by  the  sudden 
antagonisms  of  the  poses  and  the  brusque  yieldings. 
At  the  end,  according  to  Spanish  custom,  the  dance 
ended  in  an  embrace.  Emma  Fornez,  surprised  to 
find  so  inspired  a  partner,  transported  by  the  mood, 
ended  laughingly  with  a  kiss,  her  warm  arms  remain 
ing  languidly  a  moment  about  the  shoulders  of  the 
young  man,  whom  she  complimented  with  expres 
sions  of  surprise.  Besieged  at  every  side  with  cries 
for  an  encore,  they  repeated  the  dance,  freer  in  their 
revolving  movements  from  the  intimacy  of  the  first 
passage. 

From  time  to  time  Beecher  had  managed  to  steal 
a  glance  in  the  direction  of  Nan  Charters.  She  was 
sitting  straight  and  unrelaxing,  her  eyes  never  leav 
ing  him,  the  lines  of  her  mouth  drawn  a  little  tightly. 
When  Emma  Fornez  had  embraced  him  for  the  sec 
ond  time,  Beecher,  relaxing,  perceived  that  Nan  Char 
ters  turned  her  back  and  was  conversing  volubly, 
her  shoulders  rising  and  falling  with  little  rapid 


132  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

movements,  while  her  fan  had  the  same  nervous  lash 
ing  that  one  sees  in  the  uneasy  panther. 

He  was  delighted  at  his  success,  at  the  revenge  he 
had  inflicted,  at  the  superiority  he  had  regained. 
The  dances  began  again,  but  he  did  not  dance.  He 
held  himself  near  the  entrance,  surveying  the  scene 
triumphantly.  The  experience  was  new  to  him;  in 
the  few  years  he  had  passed  since  college,  he  had 
been  really  out  of  the  world.  This  game  — the  most 
fascinating  of  all  the  games  of  chance  that^fcn  fas 
cinate  the  gambler  in  each  human  being  —  me  game 
between  man  and  woman,  came  to  him  as  a  revela 
tion,  with  a  zest  that  was  almost  a  discovery  of  his 
youth. 

All  at  once  a  feminine  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm 
and  the  voice  of  Nan  Charters  said : 

"  Come  outside  —  in  the  garden.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  Come  quietly." 

Elated  by  a  strange,  almost  cruel  feeling  of  con 
quest,  he  followed  her,  with  a  last  look  back  at  the 
studio,  at  the  littered  bar,  where  Bo  Lynch  was  still 
calling  raucously  for  customers,  at  the  silent  inten 
sity  of  the  gamblers,  whom  he  occasionally  perceived 
between  the  flitting  dresses  of  the  dancers.  In  the 
middle  of  the  floor  Lorraine  and  Plunkett,  stumbling 
and  unsteady,  were  solemnly  waltzing  in  each  other's 
arms  —  the  specter  of  the  morning  forgotten. 

He  closed  the  door  softly  and  joined  the  young 
actress,  who  was  waiting  for  him  at  some  distance. 

"  Can  you  take  me  home  ?  "  she  asked  directly. 
"  Mr.  Lorraine  is  in  such  a  condition  that  I  do  not 
wish  to  go  with  him." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  133 

"  Certainly/'  he  said,  a  feeling  of  protection  re 
placing  the  first  victorious  perception  of  the  fire  of 
jealousy  he  had  awakened  in  her. 

Gunther's  automobile  was  waiting,  and  they  en 
tered  it.  She  did  not  say  a  word  to  him,  and  he,  de 
termined  to  force  her  to  begin  the  conversation, 
waited  with  a  pleased  enjoyment  until  three-quarters 
of  the  journey  had  been  accomplished.  All  at  once 
she  turned,  and,  taking  him  by  the  lapels  of  the  coat, 
brougljt  him  toward  her  as  one  scolds  a  child. 

"  Are  you  so  angry  because  I  didn't  see  you  this 
afternoon  ?  "  she  said,  smiling. 

The  feminine  defensive  instinct  of  avoiding  the 
issue  by  ambushing  it  with  subterfuges,  is  equaled 
only  by  that  instinct  for  attack  which  brushes  aside 
all  preliminaries  and  strikes  directly.  Beecher,  taken 
off  his  guard,  was  a  prey  to  two  contrary  impulses. 
Two  replies,  absolutely  opposed  and  illogically  joined, 
came  to  his  lips.  One  brutal,  still  charged  with  the 
savageness  of  the  evening,  to  say : 

"  Angry  ?  ,>Jot  at  all.  Aren't  you  claiming  a  lit 
tle  too  much :  " 

And  the  other,  a  warm,  yielding  desire  to  blurt  out 
frankly : 

"  Yes,  I  was  angry.     I  wanted  to  see  you." 

She  waited.  Her  large  eyes,  seeming  larger  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  carriage,  continued  steadily  on 
him.  The  first  impulse  dominated  the  second,  but 
was  modified  by  it. 

"  Angry  ?  What  a  curious  idea !  "  he  began,  with 
a  half  laugh.  "  You  were  so  upset  — " 

She  interrupted  him,  shaking  her  head. 


134  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Why  did  you  act  the  way  you  did  tonight? 
Don't  do  things  that  are  not  like  you.  That  is  not 
the  way  we  began." 

He  was  silent,  not  knowing  what  to  answer.  Pres 
ently  she  withdrew  into  her  corner,  glanced  out  of 
the  window,  as  if  to  assure  herself  that  they  were 
near  their  destination,  and,  placing  her  hand  over  his, 
said  gently : 

"  You  are  very  sympathetic  to  me.     Keep  it  so." 

For  all  that  he  said  to  himself  that  it  was  his  favor 
with  other  women  that  made  him  precious  to  her, 
he  felt  a  certain  yielding  of  the  spirit.  He  wondered 
if  he  could  take  her  in  his  arms;  but  he  restrained 
himself,  and  closed  his  two  hands  over  hers. 

"  Yes,  we  are  very  sympathetic/'  he  said ;  but  he 
did  not  say  all  he  meant. 

"  What  a  foolish  boy  you  are,"  she  said  finally, 
looking  up  at  him.  "Don't  you  know  that  if  I  say 
one  word  you  will  go  wherever  I  want  you  to  ?  " 

He  was  so  taken  by  surprise  at  the  audacity  and 
confidence  of  her  remark,  that  he  could  not  collect 
himself  for  an  answer,  outgeneraled  by  the  woman 
who  had  so  calculated  to  a  nicety  her  last  words  that 
the  arrival  of  the  automobile  left  him  without  re 
sponse. 

He  went  home,  repeating  to  himself  what  she  had 
asserted,  resisting  a  wild  desire  to  return  to  the 
Lindaburys'  and  forget  there  the  disorder  in  his  soul ; 
and,  though  he  rebelled  scornfully  against  her  confi 
dent  assertion,  the  incessant  repetition  of  it  did  leave 
an  impression. 

As  he  passed  the  great  marble  fagade  of  the  Atlan- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  135 

tic  Trust,  an  unusual  sight  made  him  bend  out  of  the 
window.  In  the  chill  gray  of  the  coming  dawn,  a 
thin  line  of  depositors  was  waiting,  some  standing, 
others  huddled  on  campstools.  At  the  sight  the 
seriousness  of  life  smote  him,  and  he  returned  home, 
the  tremulous  turns  of  the  human  gamble  he  had 
played  feverishly  blended  and  confused  with  the  dark 
realities  of  the  rising  tragedy  of  speculation. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHEN,  the  next  morning,  Beecher  struggled  out 
of  a  profound  stupor,  it  was  to  be  awakened 
by  the  sounds  of  Bo  Lynch  at  the  telephone.  He 
rolled  out  of  bed  after  a  startled  gaze  at  his  watch, 
recalling  in  a  flash  the  incidents  of  the  night  before. 
As  he  emerged  he  heard  the  final  phrase,  and  the 
click  of  the  released  receiver : 

"  Sell  at  once  —  throw  them  over." 

Bo  Lynch,  a  pad  of  paper  in  one  hand,  a  tumbler 
of  cracked  ice  in  the  other,  already  dressed  for  the 
day,  greeted  him  nonchalantly: 

"  Morning." 

"  How  late  did  you  stay  ?  "  asked  Beecher. 

"  Oh,  we  breakfasted  together,"  said  Lynch,  with 
a  wry  smile ;  "  charming  little  repast.  But  I  picked 
up  enough  to  pay  for  my  winter's  stabling." 

Beecher  glanced  at  the  clock,  which  was  approach 
ing  the  hour. 

"  Waiting  for  the  opening?  " 

"Yes."  His  glance  followed  Beecher's  with  a 
'sudden  concentration,  and,  taking  up  a  matchbox, 
he  struck  a  match  and  threw  it  away.  "  Waiting 
to  see  if  I  can  escape  working  another  year." 

Beecher,  comprehending  that  sympathy  would  be 
distasteful,  picked  up  the  morning  papers.  The 
scareheads  were  alive  with  the  note  of  panic :  a  dozen 
banks  were  threatened  with  runs ;  a  rumor  was  abroad 

136 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  137 

that  the  Atlantic  Trust  and  two  other  great  institu 
tions  might  close  their  doors  within  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours;  an  interview  with  Majendie  protested 
against  the  action  of  the  Clearing-house,  asserting 
the  recklessness  of  the  move  and  the  solvency  of  the 
Trust  Company ;  a  riot  was  feared  on  the  East  Side, 
where  the  small  Jewish  depositors,  always  prey  to 
alarms,  were  in  a  state  of  frenzy;  vague,  guarded 
hints  of  further  actions  to  be  expected  by  the  Clear 
ing-house  against  another  prominent  chain  of  banks, 
and  a  report  that  John  G.  Slade  was  to  tender  his 
resignation,  were  joined  with  rumors  from  the  office 
of  the  State  Examiner  of  Banks  that  there  might  be 
grounds  for  the  criminal  prosecution  of  certain  of 
ficials. 

The  telephone  rang.  Lynch  went  to  the  receiver, 
arranging  his  pad  methodically  on  the  table.  Beecher 
stopped  reading,  listening  to  the  broken  threads. 

"  All  right,  go  ahead."  .     .     . 

"How  much?"  .     .     . 

"  Whew !  Give  me  the  Northern  Pacific  figures 
now."  .  .  . 

"Yes  — yes  — I  see."  .     .     . 

"  Something  of  a  break,  isn't  it  ?  "  .     .     . 

"  All  right."  .     .     . 

"  No  —  that's  all  in  the  game.  Thank  you.  I'll 
send  my  check  to-day.  Thanks." 

He  put  up  the  receiver,  glanced  curiously  at  the 
clock,  which  marked  twelve  minutes  after  ten,  and 
studied  the  pad. 

Beecher  had  never  been  intimate  with  Lynch,  but 
he  liked  him  and  his  standards  of  Britannic  phlegm. 


138  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

He  belonged  to  that  curious  freemasonry  of  men,  an 
indefinable,  invisible  standard  of  association,  but  one 
that  cannot  be  counterfeited. 

"  How  did  you  come  out?  "  he  said  carelessly. 

"  About  as  I  expected.  The  market  has  gone 
wild." 

Bo  Lynch  poured  out  a  morning  peg,  adjusted  his 
cravat  critically  in  the  mirror,  and  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Lunching  at  the  club?  " 

"  Not  to-day." 

"  It'll  be  a  cheerful  funeral.     So  long." 

After  his  departure  Beecher  studied  the  jotted 
figures  on  the  pad.  In  the  twelve  minutes  of  the 
opening,  Lynch  had  lost  a  clear  thirty-two  thousand 
dollars. 

By  the  time  he  had  dressed  and  breakfasted,  he  had 
answered  the  telephone  a  dozen  times,  messages  from 
men  he  knew,  anxious  to  learn  if  his  intimacy  with 
young  Gunther  had  brought  him  any  valuable  in 
formation;  inquiries  as  to  the  effect  on  his  personal 
fortunes,  and  rumors  of  individual  losses. 

He  himself  remained  undisturbed  by  the  frenzy. 
His  own  fortune,  thanks  to  the  wise  provision  of  a 
hard-headed  father,  was  safely  invested  in  solid 
properties,  and  the  world  of  speculation  had  not  en 
tered  his  ken.  He  returned  to  his  newspapers,  read 
everything  bearing  on  the  personal  fate  of  John  G. 
Slade,  which  interested  him  extraordinarily  since  his 
encounter  with  that  abrupt  and  forceful  personality, 
and,  rising,  asked  himself  how  he  could  kill  the  time 
until  the  hour  of  his  luncheon  with  Rita  Kildair. 

The  irritation  he  had  felt  at  the  end  of  his  ride 


,    THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  139 

with  Nan  Charters  had  disappeared.  Studying  the 
evening  calmly,  he  analyzed  her  words  with  a  clearer 
perception.  He  comprehended  that,  beyond  all  the 
cleverness  of  her  attitude,  she  had  been  veritably 
piqued  by  his  indifference  and  his  absorption  by 
Emma  Fornez,  who  treated  her  as  a  little  actress. 
Considering  the  encounter  thus,  he  smiled  occasion 
ally,  congratulating  himself  that  the  conversation 
had  ended  so  abruptly  —  when  a  continuance  would 
have  led  him  perhaps  to  say  some  of  those  sudden, 
illogical  remarks  which  are  irresistibly  drawn  from  a 
man  by  the  provoking  contact  of  certain  feminine 
personalities. 

"  She  may  say  what  she  wants/'  he  said,  selecting 
a  cigarette.  "  She  was  caught  by  her  own  tricks." 
He  took  several  steps,  and  grinned  to  himself.  "  It's 
an  amusing  game,  and  a  game  that  will  be  amusing 
to  play." 

Despite  this  feeling  of  confidence  and  elation,  he 
had  an  irresistible  desire  to  telephone  her,  to  indulge 
himself  in  the  pleasure  of  hearing  her  voice  again. 
He  had  resisted  the  impulse  several  times,  convincing 
himself  of  the  tactical  error;  and  yet,  the  more  he 
argued  against  it,  the  more  the  desire  haunted  him. 

Ordinarily  he  spent  an  agreeable  half-hour  after 
breakfast,  calling  up  on  the  telephone  those  of  the 
opposite  sex  with  whom  he  was  in  the  relation  of  a 
good  comrade.  He  enjoyed  these  morning  snatches 
of  intimacy,  with  an  enjoyment  untouched  \vith  any 
seriousness.  This  morning,  as  he  took  the  telephone 
in  hand,  he  thought  first  of  Emma  Fornez,  but  as  he 
had  neglected  to  make  his  adieu  to  her  on  leaving 


140  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

with  Nan  Charters,  he  considered  a  moment  while 
he  formulated  an  acceptable  apology. 

The  prima  donna  answered  him  from  the  languid 
idleness  of  her  bed,  where  she  was  resting  in  a  state 
of  complete  exhaustion. 

"  I  am  ab-so-lutely  Urn'9  she  said  in  an  anguished 
tone.  "  It  is  fright-ful.  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
sing  —  never !  "  Then  she  remembered.  "  I  am 
very  angry  with  you  —  yes,  yes, —  very  angry." 

Beecher  explained,  with  crocodile  tears,  how  he 
had  been  forced  to  come  to  the  aid  of  a  distressed 
and  helpless  female. 

"  Ta-ta-ta !  Stuff  and  nonsense !  You  could  have 
boxed  her  up  in  a  carriage  and  sent  her  home  —  yes, 
yes,  you  could.  But  you  are  in  love  —  you  are  weak 

—  you  wanted  an  excuse  —  she  made  a  fool  of  you 

—  she  twisted  you  around  her  finger !  " 
Beecher  denied  the  charge  with  indignation. 

"If  you  wanted  to,  you  could  have  come  back  to 
me  —  yes,  you  could/' 

"  But  you  had  deserted  me  —  I  was  furious." 

The  conversation  continued  ten  minutes  on  these 
purely  conventional  lines  and  ended  with  a  promise 
to  drop  in  that  afternoon  for  tea. 

He  had  hardly  ended  when  Mrs.  Fontaine  called 
up  with  an  invitation  to  her  box,  for  Mme.  Fornez's 
debut  in  Carmen  the  following  week. 

Then  he  called  up  Miss  Rivers,  not  because  he  par 
ticularly  wished  to  talk  with  her,  for  he  had  deter 
mined  on  her  decapitation,  so  to  speak,  but  in  order 
to  appease  somewhat  the  desire  he  had  to  telephone 
some  one  else.  In  conversing  over  the  telephone,  he 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  141 

felt  a  revival  of  interest  and  promised  to  try  to  drop 
in  for  a  call  that  afternoon. 

He  rose,  looking  down  at  the  telephone  in  a  dis 
satisfied  way,  and,  turning  his  back,  went  in  search 
of  his  hat. 

"  She'll  expect  me  to  telephone,  of  course,"  he 
thought;  "besides,  what  excuse  could  I  give?  I'm 
not  going  to  play  into  her  game  —  not  by  a  long 
shot.  I  know  the  kind  —  entirely  too  much  brain- 
work  to  suit  me.  Oh,  yes,  she'd  like  to  annex  me  — 
because  I've  been  attentive  to  Emma  Fornez  —  sure ; 
but  when  it  comes  down  to  business.  Mr.  Charles 
Lorraine  has  a  hundred  thousand  a  year  and  I  have 
thirty.  She  knows  that."  He  laughed  disdainfully 
and  repeated,  "  You  bet  she  knows  that  —  well,  so 
do  I." 

He  returned  to  the  sitting-room  and  selected  a 
cane,  glancing  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  at  the 
accursed  telephone. 

"  I  won't,"  he  said,  taking  three  steps  toward  it 
and  then  turning  abruptly  away. 

At  the  moment  when  he  stood  wavering,  it  began 
to  ring.  He  went  to  it  hastily.  Miss  Charters  was 
calling  him. 

"  How  lucky !  "  he  said  purposely.  "  I  was  just 
going  out.  I  heard  you  from  the  hall." 

"  You  know,  I  never  realized  until  this  morning 
what  I  had  done,"  said  the  voice  at  the  other  end. 
"  I  was  so  upset  by  Mr.  Lorraine's  condition  that  I 
forgot  you  were  there  with  Madame  Fornez." 

"  Clever  girl,"  he  said  to  himself,  smiling.  Then 
aloud :  "  Oh,  I  explained  matters." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  was  afraid  I'd  got  you  into  trouble." 

"  No,  indeed.  Madame  Fornez  is  a  good  sort ; 
she  understood  at  once." 

"I'm  so  glad.  You've  'phoned  her  already 
then?" 

"  Yes." 

He  remembered  McKenna's  suggestion,  but  he  did 
not  wish  to  make  the  demand  direct. 

"  Something  of  a  smash  in  Wall  Street  to-day," 
he  said  carelessly. 

"  You  weren't  caught,  were  you?"  she  said,  with 
a  note  of  quick  sympathy  which  he  admired. 

"No;  I  don't  speculate." 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  have." 

"  By  Jove,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  didn't  lose  any 
thing." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,"  she  said  doubtfully.  "  I 
had  some  money  invested,  but  I  suppose  if  I  hold 
on  that'll  come  up  again." 

"  Not  on  margins  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed." 

"Who's  your  broker?" 

"Mr.  Garraboy." 

"Who?" 

"  Mr.  Garraboy." 

The  news  produced  on  him  a  strangely  ominous 
effect  He  forgot  all  the  parleying  and  the  tactical 
planning  of  his  campaign,  overshadowed  by  a  sudden 
sense  of  sympathy. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  that,"  he  said  anx 
iously.  "  Have  you  much  in  his  hands  ?  " 

"  Much  for  me  —  about  twenty  thousand." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  143 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  in  this  afternoon  ?  Can  I 
see  you  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would/' 

Something  in  her  voice  struck  him  by  its  weak 
ness. 

"You  are  not  worried,  are  you?"  he  said. 

"  A  little." 

"  Why  don't  you  call  him  up?  " 

"  I've  been  trying  to." 

He  was  going  to  offer  to  telephone  for  her,  when 
he  remembered  the  antagonism  he  had  felt  for  the 
broker,  and  refrained  until  a  fuller  knowledge.  He 
reassured  her,  making  light  of  her  doubts,  though 
feeling  an  instinctive  anxiety  for  himself.  Then  he 
called  up  McKenna;  but  the  detective  was  out,  and, 
leaving  word  that  he  would  try  later,  he  went  for  his 
morning  ride. 

A  little  before  one  o'clock  he  was  in  the  softly 
lighted  studio  of  Mrs.  Kildair,  waiting  for  his  hostess 
with  the  pleasurable  anticipation  of  a  confidential 
tete-a-tete.  On  one  thing  he  was  thoroughly  re 
solved —  to  convince  her  of  the  seriousness  of  his 
purpose  in  offering  his  assistance.  As  he  paced 
slowly  and  irregularly  about  the  room,  his  mind, 
perplexed  by  the  mystery  of  the  disappearance  of  the 
ring,  instinctively  considering  the  possibilities  for 
concealment,  he  was  surprised  to  hear,  behind  the 
closed  doors  of  the  bedroom,  the  sound  of  voices  in 
agitated  discussion.  He  stopped,  perplexed,  for  in 
his  walk  about  the  room  he  had  arrived  at  a  point 
in  such  close  proximity  that  the  tones  were  easily 
distinguishable. 


144  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  But  I  have  already  made  up  my  mind,"  cried 
a  voice  which  he  recognized  at  once  as  Mrs.  Blood- 
good's. 

Mrs  Kildair  answered  her,  but  in  a  lower  tone  — 
a  note  G£  warning  and  remonstrance. 

"  Oh,  what  do  I  care  for  the  world !  "  repeated  the 
voice,  on  a  higher  note.  "  The  world  is  all  against 
me.  I  have  only  one  life  —  I  want  to  live  some  of 
it." 

Beecher,  ill  at  ease,  realizing  that  he  had  stumbled 
on  a  situation  which  he  had  no  right  to  surprise,  tip 
toed  away.  Hardly  had  he  seated  himself  when 
the  door  opened  brusquely,  and  Mrs.  Bloodgood  ap 
peared,  saying: 

"  No,  no ;  it  is  decided.  I'm  going.  My  only  re 
gret  is  that  we  waited  so  long." 

Two  spots  of  red  showed  on  her  dark  cheeks,  while 
her  head  was  carried  defiant,  alive  with  sudden  en 
ergy.  Beecher  was  struck  with  the  unwonted  bril 
liancy  and  youth  which  the  emotion  that  possessed 
her  had  communicated  to  her  whole  body.  Mrs. 
Kildair  followed  her,  with  the  frown  of  one  who  dis 
approves,  but  who  knows  the  futility  of  any  contra 
diction. 

Beecher  rose  hastily,  emerging  from  the  shadow. 
The  two  women  stopped,  surprised  at  his  presence, 
considering  him  nervously.  The  few  snatches  of 
conversation  he  had  heard,  coupled  with  what  Gun- 
ther  had  revealed  to  him  of  the  infatuation  of  Mrs. 
Bloodgood  and  Majendie,  made  him  divine  the  in 
tention  of  elopement  they  had  been  discussing.  His 
sympathy  was  touched  by  the  distress  of  the  young 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  145 

woman,  and,  advancing  quickly,  he  said,  with  a  pre 
tense  of  shame : 

"  By  Jove,  I  must  have  been  nodding !  A  thou 
sand  pardons." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here?"  said  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair. 

"  About  ten  minutes,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  eyes 
and  laughing.  ''Confound  that  chair  —  it's  infer 
nally  comfortable,  after  being  up  all  night.  You 
made  me  jump." 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  had  regained  her  calm.  She  em 
braced  Mrs.  Kildair  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Beecher. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  see  you  to  your  carriage?  "  he 
said  eagerly,  with  a  smile  of  such  good  will  that  she 
perceived  that  whatever  he  had  overheard,  she  had 
no  need  to  fear. 

"  It's  not  necessary  —  but  thank  you,"  she  said, 
giving  him  a  grateful  smile. 

He  went  to  the  door,  opening  it  with  a  little  exag 
gerated  courtesy,  and  returned  thoughtfully  to  Mrs. 
Kildair,  who  was  watching  him  fixedly. 

"  You  overheard?  "  she  said  directly. 

"  A  little." 

"And  what  did  you  understand  from  it?" 

"  Why,  frankly,  knowing  what  I  do,  I  should  be 
lieve  that  Mrs.  Bloodgood  had  decided  to  run  away," 
he  answered  slowly;  "which  means,  of  course,  one 
man.  I  am  sorry.  I  could  not  help  hearing." 

Mrs.  Kildair  had  seated  herself  on  the  Recamier 
sofa  and  was  studying  him,  undecided  as  to  what 
she  should  say. 

"  You  have  heard  too  much,  Teddy,  not  to  know 


146  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

all/'  she  said,  reassured  by  the  directness  of  his 
glance.  "  Besides,  in  twenty-four  hours  it  will  be  in 
every  paper  in  the  country.  I  do  not  need  to  ask  your 
promise  to  keep  secret  what  you  have  heard.  She  is 
leaving  her  home  and  going  openly  away  with  Mr. 
Majendie  —  this  very  afternoon." 

"  Majendie  running  off?  "  said  Beecher,  astounded. 

"  Yes." 

"  Now  —  at  such  a  ttime  as  this  —  when  he  is 
under  fire  ?  I  don't  believe  it !  " 

"  I  should  not  have  believed  it  either,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair  thoughtfully. 

"  I  know  his  kind,"  declared  Beecher  warmly ; 
"  he  would  never  commit  such  a  folly  —  never !  " 

"  And  yet,  that  is  what  is  going  to  happen." 

"  That  is  terrible.  Doesn't  she  realize  that  he  lays 
himself  open  to  every  charge?  He'll  be  called  a  de 
faulter  and  an  absconder  —  it  is  worse  than  death !  " 

"  She  realizes  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair  in  a 
solemn  voice,  "  except  that  she  has  hated  one  man 
and  lived  with  him  ten  years,  and  that  now,  when 
everything  is  against  the  man  she  adores,  she  will 
sacrifice  anything  to  be  at  his  side." 

"  But  the  sacrifice  he  is  making — " 

"  Her  sacrifice  is  too  great  —  she  doesn't  realize 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  rising.  "  Poor  Elise !  Her 
life  has  been  terrible.  She  is  wild  with  anxiety, 
with  the  thought  of  what  Majendie  may  do.  When 
one  has  suffered  as  much  as  she  has,  one  more  sor 
row  will  not  stop  her." 

Beecher  was  silent,  overcome  by  the  vision  of  an 
emptiness  which  he  could  divine  only  in  a  general 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

way,  having  as  yet  little  knowledge  of  the  silent 
tragedies  that  pass  at  our  elbows.  When  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair  turned  again,  it  was  with  all  her  accustomed 
poise. 

"  We  can  do  nothing,"  she  said  calmly.  "  Let  us 
forget  it.  Luncheon  is  a  little  late.  We  shall  be 
three;  I  asked  Mr.  Slade  to  join  us.  By  the  way, 
you  were  kind  enough  to  offer  me  your  help  in  the 
matter  of  my  ring.  I  shan't  need  it  now,  but  thanks 
all  the  same." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  surprised. 

"  My  detectives  assure  me  they  are  on  the  right 
track,"  she  said  carelessly.  "  All  I  ask  of  you,  as  I 
have  of  every  one,  is  to  keep  this  unfortunate  occur 
rence  to  yourself." 

Beecher  had  been  on  the  point  of  informing  her 
of  his  retaining  McKenna,  confident  of  her  approval. 
Ignorant  as  he  was  of  Mrs.  Kildair's  dread  that 
Slade' s  ownership  of  the  ring  might  come  to  light, 
with  all  the  consequent  public  misunderstanding,  he 
was  disagreeably  impressed  by  her  announcement. 
He  did  not  for  one  moment  believe  her  statement 
that  the  right  clue  had  been  found.  All  he  under 
stood  was  that,  for  some  reason,  she  desired  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  case,  and  this  understanding  irritated 
him.  And  the  introduction  of  Slade  at  what  he  had 
considered  his  privileged  hour  annoyed  him  even 
more.  His  curiosity  increased  twofold  as  he  was 
forced  to  retain  his  information.  Then  he  remem 
bered  McKenna's  hint,  and  said  carelessly: 

"  By  Jove,  that  reminds  me  —  I  want  the  address 
of  your  detective  agency." 


148  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

She  raised  her  eyes  very  slowly,  and  her  glance 
rested  on  his  for  a  full  moment. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that?  "  she  said. 

He  repeated  the  story  he  had  prepared  of  a  friend's 
demand,  mentioning  Gunther's  name. 

Mrs.  Kildair  rose  as  though  reluctantly,  motion 
ing  him  to  wait,  and,  going  to  her  room,  returned 
after  a  long  moment  with  an  address  on  a  slip  of  pa 
per. 

"  There,  Teddy/'  she  said,  giving  it  to  him.  Her 
manner  had  completely  changed.  She  was  again  the 
Rita  Kildair  who  treated  him  en  camarade.  "  You 
are  disappointed  in  not  working  out  an  exciting  mys 
tery,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  Do  you  know,  Teddy, 
I  am  quite  surprised  at  you." 

"  How  so?  "  he  said  warily. 

"  I  should  have  thought  by  this  time  you  would 
have  engaged  half  the  detectives  in  New  York,"  she 
said,  turning  from  him  to  arrange  the  cushions  at 
her  back.  "  And  here  you  have  done  nothing." 

Beecher  was  not  deceived  by  the  innocence  of  the 
interrogation. 

In  the  last  days  his  wits  had  been  trained  by  con 
tact  with  different  feminine  personalities.  He  un 
derstood  that  she  wished  to  find  out  what  he  had 
done  and  assumed  at  once  an  attitude  of  boyish  can 
dor. 

"  It's  not  my  fault,  Rita,"  he  said  contritely. 
"  You  put  me  off  —  you  remember." 

"  That's  so,"  she  said.  She  motioned  to  him  with 
a  little  gesture  of  her  fingers  and  indicated  a  chair  at 
her  side.  "  Come  here,  you  great  boy,"  she  said, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  149 

smiling.     "You  are   furious   at   me,   aren't  you?" 

"  Why?"  he  said,  sitting  near  her,  with  a  resolve 
to  resist  all  her  curiosity. 

"  You  like  to  be  the  confidant  of  pretty  women, 
Teddy,"  she  said,  laughing  as  he  blushed.  "  To  be 
on  the  inside  —  to  know  what  others  can't.  Well, 
you  shan't  be  deprived." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  What  I  told  you  is  not  true,"  she  said  candidly. 
"  I  have  no  clue,  as  yet,  and  am  quite  in  the  dark.  I 
give  you  permission  to  do  all  you  can.  You  see," 
she  continued,  holding  out  her  hand  with  a  charm 
ing  smile,  "  I  give  you  my  full  confidence  —  con 
fidence  for  confidence  —  riest  ce  pas?  " 

Beecher  made  a  rapid  mental  reservation  and  re 
peated  her  phrase,  expecting  a  direct  examination, 
but  her  manner  became  thoughtful  again  and  she  said 
pensively : 

"  Besides,  you  have  stumbled  on  a  confidence  your 
self,  and  if  you  are  to  be  trusted  with  that  you 
should  be  trusted  entirely."  She  looked  at  him 
quietly  for  a  moment,  and  then  added :  "  As  a  proof 
of  my  trust,  Teddy,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  be  my 
ally  now.  Mr.  Slade  will  be  here  shortly.  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  alone  with  him.  Do  not  go  until  he  is 
gone." 

This  request,  implying  as  it  did  his  own  superior 
intimacy,  delighted  Beecher.  He  felt  half  of  his 
suspicions  vanish  as  he  answered  wisely : 

"  I  understand.  He  is  quite  daffy  about  you,  isn't 
he?" 

"  Quite.     But  he  has  to  be  kept  in  place." 


150  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Oh,  of  course." 

"  And  now  you  are  happy  again,"  she  said,  tapping 
his  arm  with  a  little  friendly  gesture  and  smiling 
inwardly  at  the  satisfaction  which  began  to  radiate 
from  his  face.  "  Teddy,  you  are  a  nice  boy.  I  will 
teach  you  what  the  world  is;  you  shall  be  my  confi 
dant,  and  we  will  laugh  together;  only,  you  must 
not  be  sentimental,  you  understand." 

"  Never,"  he  said  with  vigorous  assertion.  Then 
his  conscience  began  to  reprove  him,  and  he  blurted 
out :  "  I  say,  Rita,  I  haven't  been  quite  honest,  but 
you  rubbed  me  the  wrong  way.  I  really  have  been 
on  the  job." 

"  Besides  Gunther,  whom  else  have  you  talked 
with  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  McKenna,  the  detective ;  and  he's  dead  keen  on 
the  case,"  he  said  enthusiastically,  not  noticing  what 
she  had  implied. 

"  Oh,  McKenna ! "  she  said,  nodding  appreci 
atively.  "  You  have  done  well." 

She  sat  up,  suddenly  serious,  and,  extending  her 
hand,  took  from  him  the  address  she  had  given  him. 

"  Did  McKenna  tell  you  to  find  out  my  detective?  " 
she  said  slowly. 

Beecher  comprehended  all  at  once  how  he  had 
played  into  her  game,  but,  with  her  glance  on  his,  it 
was  impossible  to  deny. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  he  told  me  that  he'd  been  on  a 
dozen  cases  where  the  detectives  who  had  come  in 
to  make  a  search  had  gone  partners  with  the  thief. 
He  wanted  to  be  certain  there  had  been  a  real  search." 

This  seemed  to  reassure  her,  for  she  nodded  with 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  151 

a  return  of  her  careless  manner,  as  though  compre 
hending  the  situation.  Then,  crumpling  in  her  hands 
the  paper  with  the  address,  she  allowed  her  body  to 
regain  its  former  languid  position  and  said : 

"  I  should  like  to  meet  McKenna ;  you  must  bring 
him  around.  How  is  he  starting  on  the  case?  " 

Before  Beecher  could  answer,  the  bell  rang  and 
Slade's  bulky  figure  crowded  the  frame  of  the  door 
way.  He  entered,  and  the  portieres,  at  his  passing, 
rolled  back  like  two  storm  clouds. 

Whether  or  not  Mrs.  Kildair  had  calculated  the 
effect  of  the  intimacy  of  Beecher's  position,  Slade 
saw  it  at  once  as  he  noted  savagely  the  involuntary 
separating  movement  which  each  unconsciously  per 
formed,  and,  perceiving  it,  exaggerated  its  impor 
tance.  The  look  he  gave  the  younger  man  revealed 
to  the  amused  woman  how  much  he  would  have  liked 
in  barbaric  freedom  to  have  seized  him  and  crushed 
him  in  his  powerful  arms. 

"  Sorry  to  be  late,"  he  said  abruptly,  glancing  at 
the  clock.  "  I've  taken  the  liberty  to  leave  your  tele 
phone  number,  Mrs.  Kildair,  in  case  something  im 
portant  turns  up." 

They  passed  immediately  into  the  dining-room, 
Mrs.  Kildair  enjoying  this  clash  of  opposite  person 
alities.  Slade  was  not  a  man  of  small  talk,  disdain 
ing  the  easy  and  ingratiating  phrases  with  which 
other  men  establish  a  congenial  intimacy.  For  the 
first  quarter  of  an  hour  he  withdrew  from  the 
conversation,  and,  being  hungry,  ate  with  relish. 
Beecher,  abetted  by  his  hostess,  taking  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  the  superiority  he  enjoyed,  chatted  of  a 


152  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

hundred  and  one  things  which  he  shared  with  his 
listener,  incidents  of  the  party  at  Lindabury's,  gossip 
of  the  world  they  knew,  Emma  Fornez  and  Holli- 
day,  Mrs.  Fontaine  and  Gunther.  Then,  naturally 
drawn  to  the  one  topic  that  charged  the  air  with  the 
electricity  of  its  drama,  he  related  the  uproar  in  the 
city,  the  long  lines  of  depositors  before  the  banks, 
the  incident  of  Bo  Lynch  in  the  morning,  and  the  ef 
fect  on  the  men  they  knew.  In  this  both  he  and 
Mrs.  Kildair  had  an  ulterior  motive  —  to  make  Slade 
talk :  Mrs.  Kildair,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  Beecher 
alive  to  his  dramatic  closeness  to  the  one  man  about 
whose  success  or  ruin  all  the  storm  of  rumor  and 
gossip  was  raging. 

"  Stocks  are  still  dropping,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair, 
glancing  at  Slade,  who  appeared  quite  unconscious. 
"  An  enormous  quantity  of  holdings  have  been  thrown 
on  the  market." 

"  How  long  do  you  think  it  will  keep  up?  " 

"  That  depends ;  a  day,  a  week  —  Mr.  Slade  knows 
better  than  any  one." 

Slade  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  What  do  they  say  about  me  ?  "  he  asked  grimly. 

"  Every  one  expects  the  Associated  Trust  to  be 
the  next,"  said  Beecher  frankly. 

"  Probably.  I'll  tell  you  one  bit  of  news,"  he 
added  quietly.  "  The  Clearing-house  will  refuse  to 
clear  for  us  this  afternoon." 

"  But  that  means  failure,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  with 
a  quick  glance  at  him. 

"  We  shall  see." 

"  But  the  run  has  already  started." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  153 

"  Oh,  yes ;  we  have  paid  off  five  depositors  al 
ready,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  almost  imper 
ceptible. 

"Only  five?" 

"  It  takes  a  long  time  to  verify  some  accounts. 
Then  the  law  allows  discretion  in  payment  —  takes 
quite  a  while  to  count  out  five  thousand  in  half  dol 
lars."  All  at  once  he  leaned  forward  heavily  and 
began  to  speak,  contemplatively  interested.  "  The 
real  truth  is  the  thing  that  is  never  known.  The 
newspapers  never  print  the  news.  Sometimes  it  is 
given  to  them  in  confidence,  to  make  certain  that  they 
won't  print  it.  How  much  do  you  suppose  will  ever 
be  known  of  the  real  causes  of  the  present  crisis? 
Nothing.  They  may  let  the  market  go  to  the  dogs 
for  three  days,  six  days,  a  month,  ruin  thousands  of 
victims,  and  the  public  will  never  know  that  the 
whole  thing  can  be  stopped  now,  in  twenty-four 
hours,  by  ten  men.  And,  when  they  get  ready,  ten 
men  will  stop  it.  Then  there'll  be  columns  of  adula 
tion  —  patriotic  services,  unselfish  devotion,  and  all 
that ;  and  what  will  have  happened  —  ten  men  will 
be  in  pocket  a  few  millions  as  the  result  of  their 
sacrificing  devotion.  The  public  must  have  a  vic 
tim  in  order  to  be  calmed,  to  be  satisfied  that  every 
thing  has  been  changed.  Then  a  weak  man,  some 
unlucky  lieutenant,  will  be  served  up,  and  things  will 
go  on  again,  until  one  group  of  millions  is  ready 
to  attack  another.  How  the  public  will  howl !  Ma- 
jendie  has  taken  the  gambler's  risk;  Majendie  has 
failed.  There's  the  crime  —  failure ;  and  yet,  ninety 
per  cent,  of  the  fortunes  today  have  turned  on  the 


154  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

scale  —  up  or  down  —  win  or  lose.  For  every  pro 
moter  that  wins,  twenty  fail  with  a  little  different 
turn  of  the  luck. 

"  We're  all  criminals  —  only  we  don't  steal 
directly.  We  get  it  done  for  us.  We  want  fran 
chises  for  a  great  railroad  system.  We  shut  our 
eyes  —  hire  an  agent  —  go  out  and  get  this, 
no  strings,  no  directions  —  show  us  only  your  re 
sults!  Everything  is  in  irresponsibility.  A  million 
dollars  can  commit  no  crime.  After  all,  it's  in  the 
motive  —  a  man  who  steals  because  he's  hungry  is 
a  thief;  a  corporation  that  bribes  a  legislature  and 
steals  franchises,  to  create  a  great  system  of  trans 
portation,  is  performing  a  public  service.  It's  all 
in  what  you're  after.  There' re  two  ways  to  look 
at  every  big  man ;  see  the  two  periods  —  first,  when 
he  is  trying  to  get  together  money  —  power ;  and 
second,  what  he  creates  when  he  has  it.  Same  in 
politics  —  a  man's  better  in  office  than  running  for 
it.  Every  man  of  power  wants  to  arrive,  anything 
to  arrive,  but  when  he  gets  there  —  then's  the  second 
period.  The  way  to  judge  us  is  whether  we  want 
money  only,  or  money  to  create  something  big." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  want  sixty  millions,"  said  Slade  abruptly. 
"Will  I  get  it?"  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
taking  a  knife  balanced  it  in  seesaw  on  his  finger, 
letting  it  finally  drop  with  an  exclamation  of  im 
patience.  "  That's  the  danger  —  the  getting  of  it. 
I  may  have  it  in  two  years  more  and  then  again  — " 
He  opened  his  hand  as  though  flinging  sand  in  the 
air,  and  added :  "  In  a  week  it  may  be  over.  Rouge 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  155 

et  noir  —  one  bad  turn  at  the  beginning  and  Napo 
leon  Bonaparte  would  have  been  shot  as  a  conspir 
ator.  Up  to  the  present,  I've  been  living  the  first 
period  —  afterward  I'll  justify  it;  I'll  build." 

"In  what  way?"  said  Mrs.  Kilclair,  who,  while 
following  his  brutal  exposition  with  the  tribute  in 
stinctive  to  force,  was  nevertheless  aware  that  this 
unusual  revelation  of  himself  had  likewise  a  trifling 
object  —  the  over-awing  of  the  younger  rival. 

"  Railroads  —  a  great  system  —  an  empire  in  it 
self,"  said  Slade;  and  there  came  in  his  eyes  a  flash 
of  the  enthusiast  which  surprised  her.  But,  unwill 
ing  to  enlarge  on  this  topic,  he  continued :  "  What 
I've  said  sounds  raw,  doesn't  it?  So  it  is.  If  I  do 
what  I  want,  I  justify  myself.  There  are  only  two 
classes  of  human  beings  —  those  like  you  t\vo  here, 
who  get  through  life  with  the  most  pleasure  you  can, 
who  get  through  —  pass  through ;  and  then  a  few, 
a  handful,  who  create  something  —  an  empire,  like 
Rhodes,  invent  a  locomotive  or  a  system  of  electric 
production,  add  something  to  human  history.  What 
if  they  steal,  or  grind  out  the  lives  of  others? 
They're  the  only  ones  who  count.  And  the  public 
knows  it  —  it  forgives  everything  to  greatness ;  it's 
only  petty  crime  it  hates.  Look  at  the  sympathy  a 
murderer  gets  on  trial  —  look  at  the  respect  a  great 
manipulator  gets.  Why?  Because  to  murder  and 
steal  are  natural  human  instincts.  A  couple  of  thou 
sand  years  ago,  it  was  a  praiseworthy  act  for  one  an 
cestor,  who  coveted  a  hide  or  a  cave  that  another  an 
cestor  had,  to  go  out  and  kill  him.  All  animals  steal 
by  instinct.  We  are  only  badly  educated  animals, 


156  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

and  we  admire  in  others  what  we  don't  dare  do  our 
selves.  Only  succeed  —  succeed!  Ah,  there  is  the 
whole  of  it!" 

At  this  moment  the  telephone  rang,  and  Slade  rose 
and  went  to  it  with  a  little  more  emotion  than  he 
usually  showed. 

"  Is  this  the  cause  of  his  outburst?  "  thought  Mrs. 
Kildair,  while  she  and  Beecher  instinctively  remained 
silent. 

At  the  end  of  a  short  moment,  Slade  returned. 
The  two  observers,  who  glanced  at  him  quickly, 
could  not  find  the  slightest  clue  of  what  had  trans 
pired.  Only  he  seemed  more  composed. 

"  Speaking  of  stealing,  take  the  case  of  the  ring/' 
he  said,  relaxing  in  a  chair.  "  We  know  this  —  in 
credible  as  it  may  seem  —  that  there  were  at  least 
two  thieves  in  the  company;  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  were  many  more.  My  own  opinion  is  that  the 
crime  was  not  an  ordinary  one  —  that  whoever  took 
it  the  second  time  took  it  out  of  an  uncontrollable 
spirit  of  bravado,  an  overpowering  impulse  to  do  an 
almost  impossible  thing." 

"  By  the  way  — "  Beecher  began,  and  then  sud 
denly  looked  at  Mrs.  Kildair  interrogatively.  Then, 
receiving  permission,  he  continued :  "  You  know 
who  returned  that  night?" 

Slade  nodded. 

"  Yourself,  Mrs.  Cheever,  Garraboy,  and  Miss 
Charters." 

"  Miss  Charters?  "  said  Beecher,  turning  in  amaze 
ment  to  Mrs.  Kildair. 

She  nodded,  with  a  little  frown. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  157 

"As  I  told  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  Slade,  not  noticing 
that  Beecher,  overwhelmed  by  this  discovery,  did  not 
hear  him,  "  I  do  not  believe  for  a  moment  that  the 
thief  would  return.  Any  one  who  had  the  daring  to 
seize  the  ring  the  second  time  had  the  daring  to  carry 
off  the  ring;  in  fact,  had  some  such  plan  in  mind. 
Whoever  came  back  may  have  come  back  out  of  sym 
pathy,  or  with  the  idea  that  the  ring  was  still  in  the 
studio  —  in  which  case,  we  have  a  third  manifesta 
tion  of  instinct." 

They  had  passed  into  the  studio  again.  Slade 
spoke  with  all  his  old  decision,  the  energy  of  action 
replacing  the  bitterness  of  his  former  meditative 
mood.  He  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  took  his  leave 
in  a  quick,  impersonal  manner.  Beecher  ignoring 
the  looks  Mrs.  Kildair  sent  him,  departed  with  Slade, 
refusing  an  invitation  to  join  him  in  the  automobile, 
and  continuing  on  foot. 

He  was  absolutely  at  a  loss  to  account  for  Miss 
Charters'  returning  to  the  studio  after  having  gone 
to  her  apartment.  If  she  had  any  suggestion  to 
offer,  why  had  she  not  waited,  or  even  requested  him 
to  return  with  her?  Why,  in  fact,  could  she  not 
have  waited  until  the  following  day  —  instead  of 
risking  the  journey  at  such  an  hour? 

Full  of  disturbing  surmises,  he  continued  his  walk 
until  he  reached  the  great  thoroughfare  of  Forty- 
second  Street,  where  he  turned  eastward  toward  the 
station,  oblivious  to  the  excitement  in  the  street,  the 
break-neck  arrival  of  the  newspaper  wagons  and  the 
sudden,  shrill  scattering  of  urchins,  extras  in  hand. 

All  at  once,  at  the  western  corner  of  the  station, 


158  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

he  raised  his  eyes  instinctively.  A  coupe  with  trunks 
behind  it  disengaged  itself  from  the  confusion  of 
traffic  and,  turning,  slowly  passed  him.  Inside,  he 
recognized  the  dark,  defiant  eyes  of  Mrs.  Enos  Blood- 
good. 

In  a  moment  he  guessed  the  full  significance  of 
her  presence :  she  had  come  to  meet  Majendie,  to 
burn  all  bridges  behind  her,  in  the  supreme  sacrifice 
of  everything  for  the  possession  of  a  happiness  she 
had  never  known. 

The  next  instant  he  was  gazing  horror-stricken 
at  the  head-lines  of  an  extra  that  a  newsboy  flung  in 
his  face: 

SUICIDE  OF  BERNARD  L.  MAJENDIE 

He  became  perfectly  collected,  clear  in  mind  and 
instinctive  in  action,  with  the  decision  he  had  felt 
in  the  last  charges  of  a  wounded  elephant.  If  Mrs. 
Bloodgood  were  here,  it  was  because  she  expected  to 
meet  Majendie;  because  she  was  ignorant  of  the 
tragedy  that  had  taken  place. 

Retracing  his  steps,  he  arrived  at  the  carriage  the 
moment  Mrs.  Bloodgood's  hand  had  thrown  open 
the  door. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  with  an  authority  which 
instantly  impressed  the  woman  by  its  ominous  seri 
ousness.  "  Something  terrible  has  happened.  I 
must  speak  to  you."  Then,  turning  to  the  coach 
man,  without  being  overheard,  he  gave  him  Mrs. 
Kildair's  address,  saying :  "  Drive  there  quickly. 
Five  dollars  to  you  if  you  get  me  there  in  ten  min 
utes." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  159 

Then  he  opened  the  door  and  joined  the  woman 
who,  drawn  back  in  the  corner  like  an  animal  at  bay, 
already  trembling  with  what  she  did  not  know, 
awaited  him. 


CHAPTER  XI 

T^OR  an  interval,  while  the  coachman,  spurred  on 
-F  by  the  prospect  of  reward,  tore  through  the 
short  streets,  Beecher  continued  looking  into  Mrs. 
Bloodgood's  eyes  —  eyes  that  were  aghast  with 
mute,  terrified  interrogations  which  she  did  not  dare 
to  phrase. 

Suddenly  she  perceived  the  extra  which  he  had 
bought.  She  extended  her  hand,  looking  at  it  fear 
fully. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  she  said. 

He  hesitated,  and  in  the  moment  of  irresolution 
she  seized  it.  A  cry  of  pain,  a  low  cry  torn  from  the 
soul,  made  him  stiffen  in  his  seat,  steeling  himself 
against  the  expected.  But  no  further  sound  came. 
When  he  turned,  she  was  sitting  transfixed,  staring 
wide-eyed  at  the  newspaper  which  seemed  glued  to 
her  fingers.  Alarmed  at  the  rigidity  of  her  emotion, 
he  leaned  over  and  disengaged  the  paper  from  her 
unresisting  fingers.  The  action  seemed  abruptly  to 
revive  her.  She  gave  another  cry,  and  tore  the 
newspaper  from  him  with  such  energy  that  a  great, 
ill-shaped  fragment  remained  in  her  clutch. 

"  No,  no,  not  that  —  no,  no !  "  she  cried,  fran 
tically  seeking  to  decipher  the  bare  six  lines  that  re 
corded  the  tragedy.  All  at  once  she  flung  the  sheet 
from  her,  turning  to  read  the  truth  in  his  face. 

"  Ah,  it  is  true ! "  she  cried,  and  her  hand,  as 

160 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  161 

though  holding  him  guilty  of  the  fact,  violently 
pushed  him  from  her. 

"  Mrs.  Bloodgood  — "  Beecher  began  hesitatingly, 
frightened  at  the  paroxysm  that  shook  her  body. 

But  the  emotion  was  still  of  horror,  without  as  yet 
the  realization  of  the  finality  that  had  come.  She 
felt  that  Majendie  was  in  danger  —  in  terrible  dan 
ger;  that  she  must  get  to  him,  somehow,  some  way, 
and  fling  herself  in  front  of  that  awful  something 
that  threatened  him,  ward  off,  in  some  way  prevent, 
the  thing  that  was  coming.  She  seized  the  arm  of 
the  terrified  young  man,  imploring  him,  still  dry- 
eyed: 

"  Take  me  to  him  —  at  once  —  no  —  I  must  — 
take  me  —  Bernard  —  oh !  " 

She  fell  back  exhausted,  faint. 

"Be  calm;  please  be  calm,"  he  repeated,  helpless 
before  the  utter  disorder  of  her  suffering. 

All  at  once  the  annihilation  of  self  into  which  she 
had  fallen  was  succeeded  by  a  quick  paroxysm  of  en 
ergy.  She  bounded  upright  on  the  seat,  seizing  his 
arm  so  that  the  nails  hurt  him. 

"  I  will  go  to  him !  "  she  cried.  "  You  shall  not 
stop  me.  He  may  be  only  wounded.  The  report  is 
false  —  must  be  false.  I  will  go  to  him !  " 

"'  The  very  thing  that  you  must  not  do  —  that  you 
can  not  do,"  he  said  firmly;  and  then,  seized  with 
an  inspiration,  he  added :  "  Listen  —  listen  to  me, 
Mrs.  Bloodgood,  I  am  taking  you  to  Rita's;  if  you 
must  go  to  him,  go  with  her.  Two  women  can  go; 
one  would  cause  a  great  scandal.  You  can  not  put 
that  on  him  —  you  must  think  of  him  now.  We 


162  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

are  going  to  Rita's  —  Rita's !  "  he  added,  putting  his 
lips  to  her  ears  to  make  her  hear  him. 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  forced  her 
gently  back.  She  held  her  clasped  hands  rigidly 
strained  between  her  knees,  staring  out  beyond  the 
confines  of  the  carriage. 

"  He  is  not  dead,"  she  said  in  a  whisper ;  "  he 
is  wounded." 

"  As  soon  as  we  get  to  Rita's,"  he  continued  re 
assuringly,  "  I  will  telephone.  I'll  find  out  every 
thing." 

"  Wounded,"  she  repeated,  nodding  —  without 
hearing  him. 

"  If  he  is,  we  three  can  go  —  it  will  seem  quite 
natural,"  he  said  hastily,  eying  nervously  her  dry, 
uncomprehending  grief,  fearing  the  coming  outburst 
of  realization. 

"  Almost  there,"  he  said,  looking  out  of  the  win 
dow.  "  Hold  on  to  yourself.  Be  game.  There 
are  always  a  few  persons  below." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  her  lips  curled  slightly 
in  contempt,  and  she  put  her  hand  spasmodically  to 
her  throat. 

"  You're  right,  the  whole  thing  may  be  false  — 
a  wild  rumor,"  he  said  quickly,  talking  to  her  as  to 
a  child.  "  A  fake  story  —  who  knows  ?  See,  there 
are  no  details.  Here  we  are.  A  little  courage! 
Go  right  into  the  elevator." 

He  signaled  the  driver  to  wait,  and  followed  her 
hastily  into  the  elevator,  standing  between  her  bowed 
figure  and  the  boy. 

Mrs.  Kildair  was  in  the  studio,  pacing  the  floor; 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  163 

and  at  the  first  glance  each  saw  that  she  knew  the 
report,  and  that  it  was  true.  Mrs.  Bloodgood 
crumpled  on  the  floor,  without  consciousness. 

"  My  smelling-salts  are  on  my  bureau,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair  quickly.  "  Lift  her  on  the  sofa  first,  and 
then  get  them." 

"Is  it  true?"  he  said,  raising  the  slender,  life 
less  body. 

"  Yes." 

"Dead?" 

"  Yes." 

"When  did  it  happen?" 

"  At  two  o'clock." 

"  She  wishes  to  go  to  him,"  he  said  warningly. 
*'  The  carriage  is  below.  She  has  her  trunks.  She 
was  to  have  met  him  at  the  station.  What  shall  I 
do?" 

"  She  must  be  gotten  back  to  her  house  as  soon 
as  possible,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair  with  energy.  "  The 
trunks  must  return  at  once.  Everything  hangs  on 
a  hair;  I  know  Bloodgood."  She  cast  a  glance  at 
the  still  inanimate  body  and  added :  "  Wait.  Spirits 
of  ammonia  will  be  better.  I'll  get  it." 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  returned  to  consciousness  slowly, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  dazed,  plead 
ing  look. 

"  Then  it  is  so,"  she  said  at  last. 

The  two  looked  at  her  without  being  able  to  an 
swer.  Suddenly  she  bounded  up  erect,  her  fists 
striking  her  forehead. 

"  It  is  I  who  have  done  it ! "  she  cried,  and  for 
the  second  time  fell  back  lifeless  on  the  floor. 


164  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Go  down  now ;  send  the  trunks  back,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair  to  Beecher.  "  Tell  him  to  do  it  as 
quickly  as  possible  —  no,  tell  him  nothing.  Go 
quickly." 

When  Beecher  returned,  Mrs.  Bloodgood  was  on 
her  feet  again,  passing  from  spot  to  spot  ceaselessly, 
one  hand  clutching  a  handkerchief  to  press  back  the 
sobs  that  shook  her  from  time  to  time,  the  other 
stretched  out  in  front  of  her,  beating  a  mechanical 
time  to  the  one  phrase  which  she  repeated  again  and 
again : 

"  I've  done  it  —  I've  done  it  —  I've  done  it !  " 

Mrs.  Kildair,  leaning  by  the  piano,  knowing  that 
each  period  must  have  its  expression,  awaited  the 
right  moment.  Beecher,  at  a  sign  from  her, 
slipped  quietly  into  a  chair. 

"  Yes,  it's  I  —  it's  I  —  I !  "  said  the  indistinguish 
able  voice. 

"  You  have  done  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair 
solemnly.  "  It  is  fate." 

"  No,  no.  Only  I  am  to  blame,"  she  answered, 
stopping  short,  each  word  coming  slowly  through 
the  torrents  of  tears. 

Mrs.  Kildair  passed  quietly  to  her  side. 

"  You  are  not  to  blame,  dear,"  she  said ;  "  don't 
think  that." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know,"  she  said,  suddenly  ac 
quiring  a  terrible  calm  that  froze  the  young  man. 
"  At  what  time  did  he  —  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  At  two." 

"  I  knew  it !  Ten  minutes  before,  he  telephoned 
me ;  he  said  —  oh,  what  do  I  know  ?  —  said  a  thou- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  165 

sand  things  but  the  one  in  his  mind.  Asked  me  if 
I  still  was  resolved  to  go." 

"  But  then,  Elise  — " 

"  You  don't  understand !  It  was  I  who  insisted 
on  his  going  —  I  —  I !  I  told  him,  if  he  would  not 
go,  I  would  come  openly  to  his  house  —  I  would  not 
be  separated  from  him.  Oh,  my  God!  I  didn't 
know  — I  didn't!" 

She  abandoned  herself  to  her  transports  once 
more,  flinging  herself  on  her  knees  and  praying,  as 
an  uncomprehending  child  prays: 

"  O  God,  don't  let  it  be  true  —  please  don't  let  it 
be  so!" 

Beecher  covered  his  eyes  suddenly  with  his  hands. 
Mrs.  Kildair  allowed  her  for  a  moment  to  tire  her 
self  in  supplication  and  anguish.  Then  she  went  to 
her,  grasping  her  shoulder. 

"  Elise." 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  stopped,  rose,  and  went  to  the 
window,  where  she  stood  swaying. 

"  I'm  going  to  him,"  she  said,  pressing  her 
knuckles  against  her  temples. 

"  Get  hold  of  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  avoid 
ing  the  error  of  opposition. 

For  a  long  moment  neither  spoke,  while  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  passing  to  and  fro,  struggled  to  fight 
down  the  sobs  that  were  choking  her.  At  last  she 
stopped,  facing  Mrs.  Kildair. 

"  I  am  going  to  him,"  she  said. 

The  other  woman,  with  a  look  of  great  compas 
sion,  shook  her  head  in  a  slow  negation,  looking  full 
at  her. 


166  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  But  he  said  I  could ! "  she  cried,  stretching  out 
her  hands  toward  Beecher. 

"  You  can't." 

"  But  he  said  so  —  he  promised." 

"  No ;  it  is  impossible." 

"I  wt//go!" 

"  There  are  twenty  reporters  waiting  for  just 
that/'  Said  Mrs.  Kildair.  Then,  raising  her  voice, 
she  said  impressively :  "  Elise,  there  is  something  you 
must  do  —  something  ten  times  more  terrible." 

"What?" 

"  Return  home  —  and  at  once." 

"  Never !  "  The  cry  burst  from  her  as  her  whole 
body  was  shaken  with  indignation.  "  Never  in  the 
world  —  never  again !  " 

"  Listen,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  seizing  her  arm,  and 
Beecher  was  struck  with  the  savageness  of  her 
energy.  "  Things  are  no  longer  the  same.  You 
are  alone  —  absolutely  alone.  Do  you  understand 
what  that  means  —  without  a  cent  —  alone  ?  " 

"What  do  I  care?" 

"  Not  now ;  but  in  a  week,  in  a  month  —  You 
think  you  know  the  greatest  suffering  in  the  world; 
you  don't  —  the  greatest  is  poverty.  Whatever  has 
happened,  you  are  Mrs.  Enos  Bloodgood.  Only 
yourself  can  destroy  that.  One  life  is  ended  in 
you.  You  have  loved.  That  will  never  come  again 
—  not  the  same.  Life  is  long  and  terrible." 

"  What,  you  can  suggest  such  a  thing?  "  said  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  raising  her  head  indignantly.  "  Such  an 
infamy  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  because  I  know.     The  world  is  not  an 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  167 

equal  one.  A  woman  can  not  fight  as  a  man  can. 
A  year  from  now,  when  you  can  suffer  no  further, 
do  you  want  to  wake  up  in  a  dingy  boarding-house, 
cut  off  from  all  you  have  lived  in?  For  a  great 
love  —  perhaps  —  but  to  be  alone  ?  No,  no !  Elise, 
you  will  do  as  I  say  because  I  can  see  better  than 
you.  You  are  Mrs.  Enos  Bloodgood  —  you  have 
everything  that  a  million  women  covet.  It  is  your 
life ;  you  will  go  back." 

"Ah,  how  can  you  say  that  to  me  now?"  said 
Mrs.  Bloodgood,  pressing  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes. 

"  Because  the  world  is  different  from  the  world 
of  this  morning  —  because  everything  is  different, 
Elise.  There  are  no  longer  the  reasons  that  existed. 
You  are  alone  against  the  world.  You  know  your 
husband  —  one  public  word  or  action,  and  he  will 
cast  you  off  like  an  old  shoe." 

"How  can  I  go  back?"  she  said,  sitting  down, 
half  subdued.  "How  can  I  get  the  strength?  I 
don't  know  yet  what  has  happened.  I  can't  realize 
it  —  oh,  if  I  had  only  had  my  way!  If  he  had  only 
let  me  leave  a  month  —  two  months  ago.  If  I'd 
only  been  firm ;  if  we  had  gone  that  night  —  that 
night  we  were  here  —  when  I  begged  him  to.  If  he 
had  only  loved  me  more  than  his  honor,  as  I  loved 
him.  If  only  I  — " 

"  Elise,"  said  the  quiet  voice  of  Mrs.  Kildair. 

The  young  woman  checked  herself,  breaking  off 
tind  moving  again ;  but  almost  immediately  broke  out 
again : 

"  And  now  you  want  me  to  go  back  to  him.     Oh, 


168  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

if  you  knew  how  I  hate  him,  how  I  loathe  him  — 
what  that  life  means  —  how  cruel  he  can  be,  how 
he  can  make  me  suffer  by  a  word  or  a  look  —  how 
he  enjoys  — " 

"Elise,  Elise!" 

"  I  can't  go,  Rita,  I  can't !  Don't '  ask  me  to  go 
now.  Let  me  stay  a  while  here,  just  tonight,  where 
I  can  weep,"  she  cried. 

"  No,  no.  It  must  be  now  —  soon.  You  have 
left  your  home  with  your  trunks  —  he  knows  it.  If 
you  return  —  you  return  because  you  are  worried  — 
the  panic  —  on  his  account." 

"Ah,  what  a  lie!" 

"  Elise,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  coming  forward  again 
and  arresting  the  other's  arm,  "  listen.  You  are 
not  what  I  am.  You  are  not  strong  —  you  are 
weak.  You  are  a  woman  of  the  world,  worldly, 
loving  worldly  things,  who  for  a  moment  has  been 
transformed  by  a  great  passion.  The  whole  earth 
has  no  such  passion  any  longer.  Do  you  under 
stand  ?  Something  is  gone  —  your  youth  is  ended. 
Keep  tight  hold  of  the  little  that  is  left.  Come,  be 
strong.  Dissimulate  as  you  have  before.  Come." 

"  Not  now/'  said  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  terrified. 

"  Yes,  now.  If  possible,  you  must  be  back  be 
fore  he  returns." 

And  Beecher,  from  his  chair  where  he  had 
watched,  forgotten  by  both  women,  saw  Mrs.  Kil 
dair,  who  not  for  a  moment  had  deviated  from  the 
vital  issue,  draw  the  unresisting  woman  by  the  very 
force  of  her  energy  into  the  bedroom,  from  which 
shortly  they  emerged  again. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  169 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Mrs.  Bloodgood  in  a  voice 
that  was  scarcely  distinguishable.  She  had  thrown 
over  her  head  a  thick  veil,  behind  which  her  features 
were  only  dimly  visible. 

"  Telephone   for  a  carriage,"  said  Mrs.   Kildair. 

"  I  have  done  so,"  said  Beecher,  who  had  availed 
himself  of  the  interval. 

"  But  the  trunks?"  said  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  turning 
helplessly. 

"  They  went  back  long  ago." 

"  Ah !  "  She  took  a  few  weak  steps  and  turned. 
"But  I  shall  see  him?" 

"  I  give  you  my  word." 

"Tonight?" 

"  Tonight." 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  made  a  little  sign  of  acquiescence, 
and  passed  out  of  the  door.  The  carriage  was  wait 
ing.  Beecher  silently  handed  her  into  it,  feeling 
the  sudden  heaviness  on  his  arm.  They  rolled  away. 
She  did  not  lift  her  veil,  and  he  could  not  guess  what 
look  was  on  her  face.  Twice  she  made  him  change 
their  course,  in  order  to  put  off  the  final  dreaded 
moment. 

"  You  have  been  kind,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  owe 
you  much.  Thank  you.  Now  I  will  go  back." 

"  Don't  speak  of  thanks  at  such  a  time,"  he  said 
hastily.  "  If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  any 
time—" 

"  I  know."  All  at  once,  forgetting  his  presence, 
she  burst  out :  "  Oh,  how  I  loved  him !  I  would  have 
done  anything  for  him  —  anything !  I  can't  believe 
it.  It  doesn't  seem  possible !  " 


170  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Be  careful,  Mrs.  Bloodgood,"  he  said,  alarmed. 
"Be  careful  —  please." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,"  she  said  slowly.  "  All 
that  is  over."  But,  still  obsessed,  she  seized  his  arm. 
"  Only  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  loved  him  so  that 
nothing  made  any  difference.  Any  one  can  know 
it.  I  would  have  gone — " 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said  quickly,  taking  her  hand  to 
quiet  her. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  loved  him  —  the  only  real  thing  in 
my  life!"  she  repeated,  sinking  back. 

Ahead  he  saw  the  great  Italian  facade  of  the 
Bloodgood  residence,  where  twenty  servants  awaited 
the  call  of  this  shadow  at  his  side,  whose  invitation 
could  make  a  social  reputation.  Then  his  quick  eye, 
as  they  neared  the  steps,  perceived  the  squat,  stolid 
figure  of  Mr.  Enos  Bloodgood  at  the  door. 

"  He  is  just  come  out  —  your  husband,"  he  said 
hurriedly,  with  a  sudden  new  sensation  of  dread. 
And  he  repeated,  a  little  excitement  in  his  voice, 
fearing  she  did  not  understand  the  danger :  "  Be 
careful;  he  is  there  —  your  husband." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him." 

She  took  the  veil  from  her  hat,  and,  folding  it, 
handed  it  to  him,  her  face  set  in  hardness  and  con 
tempt. 

"  You  might  say  Mrs.  Kildair  had  invited  — " 

"  I  know  what  to  say,"  she  said,  checking  him, 
and  a  smile  incongruous  at  the  moment  gave  the  last 
touch  of  tragedy  to  the  imagination  of  her  compan 
ion.  "  Open  the  door." 

He  gazed  at  her,  struck  with  the  strange,  dual 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  171 

personality  in  the  frail,  proud  body  —  the  abandon 
of  the  woman  who  loved  and  the  calm  of  the  woman 
who  hated.  She  who  a  moment  before  had  cared 
nothing  for  what  she  revealed  to  him  in  the  unre 
straint  of  her  sorrow,  did  not  hesitate  now  a  mo 
ment,  face  to  face  with  the  peril  of  such  a  con 
frontation. 

"  Open  the  door,"  she  repeated  sharply. 

Recalled  to  his  senses,  he  sprang  out  and  gave 
her  his  hand,  accompanying  her  to  the  chiseled 
marble  steps,  where  he  left  her,  with  a  lift  of  his 
hat  to  the  husband  above  who  awaited  her  with  a 
quiet,  cynical  enjoyment. 

"  I  thought,  my  dear,  you  had  gone  off  for  a  jolly 
little  jaunt,"  said  Mr.  Bloodgood,  without  variation 
in  the  provoking  evenness  of  his  voice. 

She  came  up  the  steps  to  his  level,  and  acknowl 
edged  his  presence  with  an  inclination  of  her  head. 

"  I  intended  to,"  she  said,  in  the  same  ceremonious 
tone.  "  But  I  was  so  alarmed  at  the  news  from 
Wall  Street  that  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  you  at  such 
a  time." 

"  Indeed  ?  I  am  quite  touched,"  he  answered, 
with  perfect  solemnity.  "  You  are  always  so 
thoughtful,  my  dear." 

She  entered.  He  followed  her  as  though  shut 
ting  off  all  retreat,  and  the  gorgeous  flunky  who  had 
run  out  disappeared,  too.  To  Beecher,  with  all  the 
anguish  of  the  scene  at  Rita  Kildair's  still  vivid  in 
his  mind,  it  was  as  though  he  had  seen  a  living 
woman  enter  her  appointed  tomb. 

"Where  shall  I  drive,  sir?"  said  the  driver. 


172  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Anywhere !  "  he  cried  furiously. 

But  at  the  end  of  five  minutes  he  emerged  from 
the  stupor  into  which  he  had  been  plunged,  the 
somber  horror  rolling  away  like  scudding  storm- 
clouds.  A  new  emotion  —  the  inevitable  personal 
application  —  broke  over  him  like  a  ray  of  light. 

"  To  be  loved  like  that  — "  he  thought  suddenly, 
with  a  feeling  of  envy.  "  Terrible,  terrible  —  and 
yet  how  marvelous !  " 

He  gave  directions  to  drive  to  Nan  Charters'  with 
a  new  curiosity  in  his  soul  —  the  inevitable  personal 
emotion  that,  strangely  enough,  even  against  his 
will,  dominated  all  the  somber  melancholy  which 
this  reverse  of  a  glittering  medal  had  brought  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HE  had  completely  forgotten,  in  the  press  of  dra 
matic  events,  the  disturbing  fact  of  Nan  Char 
ters'  return  the  night  of  the  theft.  He  remembered 
it  suddenly,  as  one  remembers  sorrow  after  a  pro 
found  sleep.  But  the  recalling  of  it  affected  him 
differently.  The  revelation  of  Mrs.  Bloodgood's 
hidden  life  had  left  him  in  a  dangerous  and  vulner 
able  mood  —  a  mood  of  quickened  compassion  and 
outgoing  sympathy.  He  was  still  determined  to 
force  a  direct  answer  from  Miss  Charters,  but  al 
ready  he  had  formed  that  answer  in  his  heart,  as 
he  for  the  hour  felt  no  longer  the  selfish  combat  of 
vanity,  but  the  need  of  charity  and  gentleness. 

In  one  of  the  profound  moods  which  color  the 
visible  world,  he  stood  at  the  window  of  the  little 
sitting-room,  awaiting  her  arrival,  looking  out  on 
the  serried  flight  of  unutterably  commonplace  roofs, 
gray  and  drab  with  the  gray  of  the  turning  day. 
And  it  seemed  to  him  that  this  twilight  was  different 
from  other  twilights,  heavily  weighted  down  with 
more  of  the  sadness  of  inexplicable  lives.  One 
tragedy  seemed  to  invoke  a  thousand  tragedies,  in 
the  cramped  immobility  of  these  inscrutable  win 
dows  which  had  not  yet  begun  to  warm  with  the 
flicker  of  human  cheer.  He  saw  only  the  brutal 
struggle  to  live,  and  felt  only  the  mystery  of  suffer 
ing,  which  was  still  a  thing  apart  from  his  life. 

173 


174  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Standing  reverently  thus,  he  asked  himself  two  ques 
tions  which,  sooner  or  later,  each  man  of  heart  and 
sensibility  puts  to  himself  in  the  awakening  to  con 
scious  existence: 

"Why  do  they  go  on?" 
"  What  is  my  justification?  " 

And  in  his  heart,  still  young  and  stirred  to  sym 
pathy,  he  felt  the  beginning  of  a  revolt  at  what  he 
had  been,  at  his  inability  to  find  a  satisfying  answer 
to  that  second  question.  He  no  longer  awaited  the 
interview  in  the  spirit  of  strife,  but  with  a  sudden 
feeling  of  impulsive  friendliness  which,  had  he  been 
an  older  man,  might  have  alarmed  him  with  its  dan 
gers.  The  profound  melancholy  of  youth,  violent 
because  unconquered  and  strange,  had  him  still  in 
its  grip  when,  all  at  once,  he  felt  an  emotion  of  well- 
being  and  returning  comfort. 

She  came  into  the  room  and  without  formal  greet 
ing  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  welcome  in  her  eyes, 
as  though  their  friendship  were  of  such  strong  dura 
tion  that  formalities  were  out  of  place. 

"  Draw  the  curtains,"  she  said,  going  to  the  elec 
tric  lamp  on  the  table,  which  woke  like  a  golden 
sun  from  the  shadows.  "  It's  cozier.  Shall  we 
light  the  fire?  Yes,  it's  more  cheery." 

"  Let  me,"  he  said  hastily. 

"  Quite  unnecessary." 

He  watched  her  sudden  stooping  movement,  that 
brought  the  loose,  intricate  tea-gown  about  her  agile 
body,  outlining  the  limbs,  which  had  the  quick 
animal  grace  that  is  peculiar  to  the  unconquered 
maiden.  Her  pose,  strong  and  alive  with  power 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  175 

and  self-reliance,  recalled  to  him  sharply  the  sense 
of  opposition.  He  was  annoyed  that  she  should 
have  done  so  naturally  what  he  should  have  done, 
feeling  in  her  too  much  self-reliance. 

She  rose,  looking  down  with  a  childish  delight 
at  the  sudden  burst  and  roar  of  the  flame.  Then 
she  turned,  studying  his  face.  The  artist  in  her 
made  her  quickly  aware  of  the  remnants  of  the  emo 
tion  which  had  stirred  him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said,  with  the  gentleness  that 
was  tantalizing  to  him.  "  You  have  a  strange  look." 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "I  have  been  behind  the 


scenes." 


a  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  have  been  with  Mrs.  Bloodgood  all  the  after 
noon  —  found  her  at  the  station  as  she  was  leaving." 

"  Mrs.  Bloodgood  was  running  away,"  she  said, 
puzzled,  but  with  a  fear  in  her  eyes  that  did  not 
escape  him. 

"  What  —  you  did  not  know !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Majendie  killed  himself  this  afternoon  at  two 
o'clock." 

"  Majendie  —  Mrs.  Bloodgood !  " 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  with  a  face  struck 
with  horror,  and  then  fell  back  into  a  chair,  seized 
with  the  suddenness  of  the  climax. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  thought  you  knew,"  he 
blurted  out. 

"  No,  no  —  nothing.  Tell  me  —  tell  me  all,"  she 
said;  and  he  saw  that  back  of  her  alarm  was  a 
significance  to  her  that  heightened  the  effect  of  the 
tragedy. 


176  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

He  told  her  first  the  bare  details  of  the  suicide  as 
he  knew  them;  and  then,  in  response  to  her  hurried 
questions,  began  to  retell  the  afternoon.  He  spoke 
impulsively,  almost  as  an  echo  of  the  drama  he  had 
,  witnessed.  Occasionally  she  stopped  him  with  a 
more  detailed  question.  Moved  out  of  his  self-con- 
'  sciousness,  he  described,  more  eloquently  than  he 
knew,  the  conflict  between  the  two  women  at  Mrs. 
Kildair's,  and  the  emotions  which  had  suddenly 
brought  him  wide-eyed  to  the  spectacle  of  the  black, 
turbulent  river  of  despair. 

"  I  can't  forget  it  —  it  haunts  me  now,"  he  said, 
when  he  had  ended  with  Mrs.  Bloodgood's  return 
into  the  home  of  her  husband.  "  It  makes  me  see 
something  in  life  I  didn't  understand  —  that  I  am 
just  beginning  to  see." 

He  looked  at  her.  Her  face  was  wet  with  tears. 
All  at  once,  astonished,  he  recalled  what  he  had  told. 

•"  What  have  I  done?  "  he  cried,  aghast.  "  I  had 
no  right  to  repeat  it.  I  didn't  realize  what  I  was 
saying! " 

"  Don't  fear,"  she  said,  shuddering,  and  she  ex 
tended  her  hands  to  the  fire,  as  though  the  recital 
had  frozen  her  body.  "  Poor  woman  —  poor, 
lonely  woman ! " 

He  sat  down  near  her,  close  to  the  fire,  and, 
stretching  out  his  hand,  touched  her  arm. 

"  Listen,  Nan,"  he  said,  so  profoundly  that  she 
could  not  mistake  the  emotion.  "  It  has  made  a 
great  difference  in  me.  It  may  be  a  mood  —  it  may 
pass;  but  I  hope  it  won't.  It  makes  me  dissatisfied. 
Look  here  —  I  don't  want  to  go  on  as  we  have, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  177 

thrusting  and  parrying.  I  don't  want  it  to  be  just 
a  game.  The  real  feeling  in  me  toward  a  woman  is 
different  —  it's  one  of  chivalry,  I  know.  Let's  drop 
all  artifices.  Let's  be  honest  with  each  other  —  good 
friends,  or  something  else,  as  it  may  come." 

She  considered  the  depths  of  the  fire  a  moment, 
and  turned,  looking  at  him  dreamily,  feeling  how 
much  older  she  was  in  the  knowledge  of  the  doubts 
of  the  world  than  the  young,  impulsive  nature  that 
looked  out  at  her  from  such  honest  eyes. 

"  Will  you  ?  "  he  asked,  as  she  looked  away  again. 

She  shook  her  head,  in  doubt  as  to  an  answer ;  but 
the  good  in  her  stirred  by  the  good  in  him  expressed 
itself  in  the  quick  pressure  of  thanks  which  her  hand 
conveyed  to  him. 

"  I  am  not  the  least  in  love,"  he  said  quickly. 
"What  I  say  I  say  because  —  oh,  I  don't  know! 
I'm  dissatisfied  with  myself.  This  thing  has  gotten 
below  my  skin.  Life's  too  rotten.  I  want  you  to 
believe  in  me  —  in  my  strength.  You  are  sym 
pathetic —  multa  sympatica.  I  don't  know;  I  hate 
to  think  of  your  fighting  alone  such  a  rotten  hard 
fight." 

She  nodded  slowly,  understanding  perhaps  better 
than  he  his  thought,  yet  half  won  to  his  appeal  al 
ready. 

She  took  his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  pressing  it  in 
emphasis  from  time  to  time,  not  looking  at  him, 
staring  at  something  that  formed  before  her  eyes. 

"  No  one  has  ever  spoken  to  me  just  like  this," 
she  said  gently.  "  One  thing  I  would  never  want 
to  happen,  Teddy  —  I  would  never  want  to  hurt 


178  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

you !  That  is  why  I  hesitate  —  why  I  am  afraid. 
You  are  only  a  great  big  boy.  You  won't  under 
stand  me.  I  am  very  selfish  —  very  worldly." 

"  You  are  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  said  furiously, 
withdrawing  his  hand.  "  You  may  think  so,  but  I 
know  you  better/' 

She  turned,  amused;  but  her  smile  left  her  as  she 
looked  into  his  eyes.  To  her  surprise,  a  feeling  of 
unease  came  to  her;  she  felt  a  new  longing  —  to  be 
for  a  moment  quite  childlike  and  helpless. 

"  Don't  blunder  into  anything,  Teddy,"  she  an 
swered,  shaking  her  head,  herself  a  little  disturbed. 
"  With  some  men  I  would  not  care.  With  you  — 
yes,  it  would  make  me  feel  like  a  criminal  to  hurt 
you." 

He  understood  that  she  was  warning  him  of  the 
futility  of  expecting  to  find  in  her  a  woman.  But 
if  she  had  calculated,  which  she  had  not,  on  any 
move  surer  to  arouse  him,  she  could  have  found  no 
better  expedient.  The  impossibility  implied,  coupled 
with  the  impulsive  generosity  in  her  voice,  made  her 
a  thousand  times  more  desirable.  He  rose  brusquely, 
and,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  looked 
down  at  the  dramatic  face,  which  the  flames  lighted 
with  the  flare  of  footlights. 

"  There  are  certain  things  that  we  must  under 
stand  together,"  he  said  with  authority,  obeying  the 
instinct  which  told  him  that  to  succeed  he  must  take 
the  upper  hand. 

Her  eyebrows  came  together  in  a  straight  flight. 

"  I  have  not  hesitated  to  trust  in  you  —  you  must 
in  me.  Tell  me.  You  have  reason  to  suspect  that 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  179 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  took  the  ring  —  at  least,  the  first 
time?" 

She  shook  her  head,  but  without  anger. 

"  Don't  you  understand,"  he  said  quickly,  "  that 
I  must  know  why  you  acted  as  you  did?  " 

Still  her  only  answer  was  a  deep-taken  breath. 

"  I  swear  to  you,  if  Mrs.  Bloodgood  did  take  it/' 
he  said,  "  I  would  not  condemn  her.  On  the  con 
trary,  I  would  pity  her." 

"  Why  should  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  who  has  millions, 
do  such  a  thing?"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Because,  from  what  I  know,  Mrs.  Bloodgood, 
who  has  millions,  as  the  wife  of  Enos  Bloodgood, 
has  not  as  much  money  in  her  pocket  as  you  or  I." 
He  stopped.  "  She  took  it  to  have  some  means  of 
escape,  didn't  she?" 

"  No,  she  did  not  take  it,"  she  answered,  but  in  a 
tone  that  brought  no  conviction. 

"  You  see,  I  know  that  you  returned  to  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair's  that  night,"  he  said,  irritated. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  she  said  quickly. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair  told  me  —  no,  that's  not  true ;  some 
one  else  did." 

"  Mrs.  Kildair  herself  called  me  on  the  telephone 
and  asked  me  to  come,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  And  questioned  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  As  to  what  you  had  seen  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  great 
feeling  of  relief  that  should  have  warned  him  of 
his  true  interest. 

"  Yes." 

"  What  did  you  answer?  " 


180  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

She  rose  and  approached  him,  looking  at  him  with 
only  friendliness. 

"  If  the  ring  is  not  restored  in  two  weeks,"  she 
said,  "  then  I  will  tell  you  what  you  wish  to  know." 

"  You  think  that,  if  Mrs.  Bloodgood  took  it,  she 
will  now  have  no  use  for  it,"  he  persisted,  seizing 
the  idea. 

"  I  know  nothing  at  all,"  she  answered,  emphasiz 
ing  the  "  know."  "  This  promise  must  satisfy  you. 
I  only  have  a  suspicion,  and  I  don't  want  to  do  an 
injustice  to  another  —  remember  that.  I  have  never 
said  it  was  Mrs.  Bloodgood  I  suspected.  Now  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about  my  own  affairs." 

He  was  covered  with  contrition  that  he  should 
have  forgotten  her  difficulties. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  said  hastily.  "  What  have 
I  been  thinking  of?  Please  don't  think  I  don't  care; 
I've  been  in  such  a  whirl  — " 

She  checked  him  with  a  gesture  and  a  smile,  mo 
tioning  him  to  sit  down  again. 

"  Have  you  had  any  word?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Of  course,  it's  a  terrible  day  on  the  Street," 
he  hastened  to  reply.  "  Everything's  up  in  the  air 
—  they're  like  a  lot  of  lunatics.  Garraboy  hasn't 
had  time  to  think.  That  oughtn't  to  alarm  you." 

"  But  I  left  word  at  his  office  for  him  to  telephone 
me,  and  it  is  now,"  she  said,  glancing  at  the  clock, 
"  an  hour  and  a  half  since  the  close." 

"  There  are  probably  a  hundred  inquiries  of  the 
same  sort  awaiting  him,"  he  said  to  reassure  her. 
"What  are  you  afraid  of?" 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  181 

"  I  don't  know  —  and  yet  I  am  a  little  anxious. 
Suppose  he  has  used  my  stocks  ?  Such  things  hap 
pen  every  day." 

"  The  best  thing  is  to  find  out  at  once  how  Garra- 
boy  stands  —  if  he's  been  caught  in  the  drop  or  not. 
Then  we  can  take  our  measures." 

"How'llyoudothat?" 

"  Call  up  Bruce  Gunther  and  get  him  on  the  trail. 
May  I  telephone?" 

"  Do  so." 

"  He's  probably  at  the  club  now,"  he  said,  taking 
up  the  receiver  and  giving  a  number.  "  Yes,  he's 
in.  That's  lucky.  I'll  get  him  in  a  moment." 
Then  he  added  irritably :  "  How  the  deuce  did  you 
ever  come  to  deal  with  Garraboy  ?  " 

"  Why,  I've  known  him  ever  since  I  came  to  New 
York.  I  wanted  to  invest  some  money  —  I  didn't 
know  any  one  else ;  and  then,  he  was  very  — 
friendly;  wanted  to  make  some  money  for  me. 
That's  how  it  was." 

"Hello,"  said  Beecher.  "Is  that  you,  Bruce? 
It^  I  — Ted." 

"  Where  the  deuce  have  you  been  ?  "  said  the  voice 
at  the  other  end.  "  I've  been  trying  to  get  you  all 
over  town." 

"You  have?" 

"  You  bet  I  have ;  McKenna's  turned  up  a  real 
clue  —  wants  to  see  you  at  once.  Pick  me  up  here 
at  the  club,  will  you  ?  " 

"  All  right.  But  say,  Bruce,  I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me.  Find  out  all  you  can  about 
Garraboy  —  you  know,  the  fellow  we  spoke  about. 


182  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Has  he  been  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  market  or  not? 
Understand?  It's  important." 

"I'll  do  it.     Anything  else?" 

"  Yes.  A  friend  of  mine  has  some  stocks  with 
him,  about  twenty  thousand  worth  —  you  see  the 
situation  —  and  she's  a  little  bit  worried.  Can't  get 
any  satisfaction." 

"Wants  'em  back?" 

"Yes.     What's  the  best  way  to  do?" 

"Urn!  Get  a  transfer  to  you  and  call  for  them 
tomorrow." 

"Of  course;  see  you  later." 

He  put  down  the  telephone  and  turned  gaily  to 
his  companion,  who  was  waiting  with  anxiety. 

"  That's  all  right.  Bruce  will  get  the  informa 
tion  and  I'll  telephone  you  this  evening.  Now,  the 
best  way  to  operate  is  this."  He  took  out  his  check 
book  and  wrote  a  check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars 
to  her  name.  "  I'll  buy  those  stocks.  Here's  my 
check;  give  me  an  acknowledgment  for  the  shares, 
with  an  order  on  Garraboy  to  deliver." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  holding  the  check 
gingerly  in  her  fingers. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  said.  "  If  there's  any 
little  difference  one  way  or  the  other,  we  can  arrange 
that  later." 

"  Supposing  Garraboy  has  failed  and  sold  my 
stocks?" 

"  He  hasn't." 

"But  if  he  has?" 

"  That's  my  risk,"  he  started  to  say,  but  checked 
himself.  "  Why,  of  course,  then  it's  off.  This  is 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  183 

just  to  give  me  the  power  to  get  them  away  at  once. 
A  man  can  do  what  a  woman  can't." 

She  was  grateful  to  him  for  his  perception  of 
delicacy. 

"  On  that  basis,  yes,"  she  said.  Then  she  stopped 
and  looked  at  him  with  a  \vhimsical  but  favoring 
smile.  "  As  it  is,  Teddy,  what  do  you  know  of  me 
to  take  even  this  chance  ?  " 

The  opening  was  too  direct.  She  saw  it  at  once, 
and,  to  forestall  his  answer,  said  more  lightly: 

"  It  is  a  great  service.     Tell  me  what  to  write."" 

As  she  was  drawing  up  the  paper  under  his  direc 
tions,  a  placid,  emotionless  woman  of  forty  entered 
from  the  rear. 

"  That  Mr.  Hargrave  is  here,  Nan  dear,"  she 
said.  "  You  gave  him  an  appointment,  you  know." 

"  Mrs.  Tilbury,  my  companion,"  said  Miss  Char 
ters.  "  Very  well ;  in  a  moment." 

Mrs.  Tilbury  passed  patiently  out  to  deliver  the 
message.  Beecher  was  delighted  with  the  correct 
ness  and  cold  respectability  of  such  a  chaperon. 

"  Mr.  Hargrave  is  a  young  dramatist,"  said  Miss 
Charters,  finishing  the  document.  "  He's  coming  to 
read  some  masterpiece  to  me.  He  wrote  a  one-act 
piece  three  years  ago  that  was  very  clever,  and  now, 
of  course,  I  can't  risk  refusing  to  hear  him  —  he 
might  have  a  work  of  genius  at  last.  This  is  my 
fourth  trial."  She  put  the  paper  from  her  im 
patiently.  "  I'm  sorry." 

He  was  displeased  also  at  this  sudden  recall  of 
the  other  life  in  her,  the  world  of  the  theater,  which 
crowded  the  walls  with  its  signed  photographs. 


184  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I'll  telephone  as  soon  as  I  know,"  he  said,  dis 
sembling  his  irritation. 

She  went  to  the  door  with  him,  annoyed  also  at 
the  interruption. 

"  I'm  coming  tomorrow,"  he  said,  and  he  held 
out  his  hand  with  a  little  defiance. 

She  did  not  resent  the  assumption  of  right,  still 
introspectively  puzzled  at  the  new  moods  into  which 
she  had  fallen.  And,  still  pensive,  she  said: 

"  Come." 

Below,  in  the  anteroom,  he  sent  a  look  of  an 
tagonism  and  scorn  at  a  young  man,  a  little  ex 
travagantly  dressed,  who  carried  a  portfolio  under 
his  arm  with  a  sense,  too,  of  irritation  and  pride. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  he  had  gone  into  the  brisk  air  of  the 
street,    his   mental   vision    returned   with   the 
crispness  of  the  night.     He  was  astonished  at  what 
he  had  said  and  done. 

"  But  I  am  not  in  love  —  not  in  the  least,"  he  re 
peated.  "  Then  what  was  it?  " 

He  was  quite  perplexed  at  perceiving  the  astonish 
ing  difference  her  presence  and  her  absence  made  in 
his  attitude.  He  repeated  to  himself  quite  seriously, 
with  a  little  wonder  that,  if  he  were  in  danger  of 
falling  in  love,  he  would  be  a  prey  to  that  disturb 
ing  emotion  now,  absent  as  well  as  present. 

"  I  am  perfectly  calm,"  he  said,  flourishing  his 
cane.  "  Not  in  the  least  excited.  It's  very  queer." 

All  the  same,  he  returned  to  the  interview,  and 
recalled  the  incidents  without  illusion.  He  compre 
hended  now  what  he  had  not  comprehended  then, 
the  full  significance  of  his  offer  of  friendship  —  in 
fact,  that  it  was  not  an  approach  to  friendship,  but 
to  something  very  different,  and  the  relations  which 
had  now  been  established  between  them  were  those 
of  confidence  and  intimacy  that  lay  on  the  border 
line  of  great  emotions. 

"  It's  very  odd,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  to  be  honest 
and  open  with  her,  and  yet  I  said  what  I  don't  feel 
—  suggested  what  I  have  not  the  least  thought  of. 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  understand  it,  unless  she  has  the 

185 


186  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

power  to  make  me  believe  in  emotions  that  don't 
exist, —  Emma  Fornez  was  right,  she  is  the  type 
that  provokes  you.  I  must  be  very  careful." 

But  one  thing  he  did  not  perceive  —  that  the  city 
no  longer  oppressed  him  with  its  bleak  struggle  and 
serried  poverty,  that  he  swung  lightly  over  the  crisp 
pavements,  breathing  the  alert  and  joyous  air,  that 
in  him  the  joy  of  living  awakened,  as  the  myriad 
lights  awoke  the  city  of  the  night,  the  city  rising 
from  the  fatigue  of  labor  with  its  avid  zest  for  pleas 
ure  and  excitement. 

"What  is  the  clue  McKenna's  got  hold  of?"  he 
thought  eagerly,  as  the  massive,  cheery  windows  of 
the  club  came  into  view  across  the  stirring,  care- 
fleeing  homeward  rush  of  the  Avenue. 

The  moment  he  entered  the  crowded  anteroom, 
the  tragic  day  returned  with  redoubled  gloom.  The 
death  of  Majendie  oppressed  every  voice  —  nothing 
else  was  discussed.  He  found  himself  caught  up  in 
the  crowd  at  the  bar,  listening  with  a  strange  sense 
of  irony  to  those  who  touched  in  haphazard  the  event 
which  he  knew  so  profoundly.  The  wildest  rumors 
were  current.  Majendie  had  shot  himself  after  the 
discovery  of  an  enormous  shortage  in  the  funds  of 
the  Atlantic  Trust.  The  Atlantic  Trust  had  been 
looted,  the  effect  on  Wall  Street  had  been  to  con 
firm  the  wildest  rumors,  the  market  would  plunge 
down  to-morrow,  the  awful  loss  of  the  day  would 
be  surpassed;  it  was  the  panic  of  '93  over  again. 
The  inevitable  mysterious  informant  in  the  crowd 
arrived  with  a  new  rumor:  Majendie  had  tried  to 
escape,  had  been  prevented  by  detectives,  who  had 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  187 

been  shadowing  him  for  days,  and  had  then  gone  in 
and  shot  himself  just  as  the  warrant  for  his  arrest 
arrived.  Another  gave  this  version;  Majendie  had 
not  shot  himself,  he  had  been  murdered. 

Every  one  exclaimed  at  this. 

"  That's  the  story  in  the  Associated  Press  offices/' 
continued  the  informant  obstinately.  "  A  man 
whose  whole  fortune  was  locked  up  in  the  Atlantic 
—  a  small  depositor  —  got  into  the  house  on  some 
pretext,  and  shot  him  —  crazy,  of  course.  It's  not 
been  verified,  but  that's  the  story." 

"  Tell  you  what  I  heard,"  said  another,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  a  group  that  eddied  about  him.  "  It's  true 
he  was  shot,  but  he  wasn't  shot  in  his  own  home. 
He  was  shot  last  night  in  his  box  at  the  opera  by 
a  man  who  is  as  well  known  as  old  Fontaine.  The 
old  story,  of  course,  trespassing  in  married  quarters. 
The  whole  thing  was  kept  dark  —  got  him  out  of  the 
box  after  the  crowd  went  out,  and  took  him  home, 
where  he  died  at  midnight.  Heard  the  names  in  the 
case,  but  pledged  not  to  repeat  them." 

Each  rumor  received  a  momentary  credence,  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.  Some  one,  defend 
ing  the  personal  friend,  insisted  on  melancholia  and 
despondency,  citing  the  example  of  an  uncle  who  had 
taken  his  life  after  the  disgrace  of  his  son.  No  one 
spoke  the  name  of  Mrs.  Blooclgood,  waiting  the  mo 
ment  of  confidences  a  trois.  In  the  stupefaction  of 
the  moment,  even  the  personal  losses,  which  had  been 
tremendous,  were  momentarily  forgotten.  Grad 
ually  inquiries  began  to  be  made  as  to  the  extent  of 
the  panic.  Then  at  once  a  division  was  apparent. 


188  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

There  was  already  the  party  of  the  shorts,  eager  and 
vociferous,  staking  their  last  chance  of  recouping 
on  a  still  wider  spread  of  the  devastating  drop,  which 
they  now  as  ardently  desired  as  though  a  thousand 
homes  would  not  suffer  for  every  point  acquired. 

Beecher  separated  himself  from  these  enthusiasts 
of  failure,  and  passed  into  the  front  room,  where 
he  was  signaled  by  Gunther,  who  was  in  one  of  the 
numerous  small  groups.  He  found  a  chair  and 
joined  the  party,  in  which  were  Fontaine,  Lynch, 
and  Steve  Plunkett.  The  conversation,  which  was 
controversial,  continued  without  interruption. 

"  Don't  be  an  ass,  Ed/*  said  Lynch,  with  irrita 
tion  ;  "  nothing  can  stop  the  market." 

"  The  Atlantic  Trust  is  as  solvent  as  Gunther  & 
Co.,"  insisted  Fontaine,  with  a  nervous,  emphatic 
gesture.  "  Every  depositor  will  be  paid  in  full." 

"  It'll  be  in  the  hands  of  a  receiver  before  the 
week's  over  —  bet  you  five  to  three." 

"Possibly;  but  then—" 

"  Moreover,  what  of  the  public?  What's  the  pub 
lic  going  to  do  when  it  hears  Majendie's  committed 
suicide?  What'll  it  think?  It'll  think  the  whole 
blamed  institution  is  rotten  to  the  core  —  looted !  " 

"  Sure,"  said  Plunkett,  and  he  added  savagely, 
his  glance  lost  in  the  distance :  "  Damn  it,  if  I'd 
known  the  news  an  hour  earlier,  I  could  have  made 
fifty  thousand." 

"  Why,  look  at  the  situation,"  continued  Bo 
Lynch,  excited  by  his  own  images.  "  The  Clearing 
house  closed  against  the  Associated  Trust  and  all 
its  allies ;  runs  on  banks  all  over  the  country ;  Slade 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  189 

forced  to  the  wall,  out  of  it  in  a  couple  of  days,  per 
haps  —  God  knows,  another  suicide,  maybe ;  two 
failures  up  into  the  hundreds  of  millions  —  every 
thing  in  the  country  thrown  on  the  market!  Look 
at  the  sales  to-day;  they'll  be  doubled  to-morrow. 
Nothing  can  hold  out  against  it.  The  country'll  go 
crazy !  I  tell  you,  '93  was  nothing  to  it." 

Gunther  rose. 

"What  do  you  think,  Bruce?"  said  Plunkett 
^anxiously. 

"  Don't  know  a  thing  about  it,"  said  Gunther 
brusquely.  "  Neither  does  Eddie  or  Bo.  If  you 
want  to  gamble,  gamble." 

He  nodded  to  Beecher,  and  they  moved  out  to 
gether. 

"  Let's  cut  out  of  this  den  of  lunatics,"  he  said. 
'"My  machine's  here;  supposing  we  run  down  to 
McKenna's  and  get  him  off  for  a  quiet  chop.  I've 
already  telephoned." 

"  He's  got  some  news  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  know  what  it  is.     Jump  in." 

"What  about  Garraboy?" 

"  Rumor  is,  he's  in  heavy.  McKenna's  looking 
that  up,  too." 

"  I  say,  Bruce,  what  do  you  really  think  about 
the  situation  ?  "  said  Beecher,  forced  to  contain  his 
curiosity.  "  Are  we  going  to  the  bow-wows  ?  " 

"If  you  ask  what  I  think"  said  Gunther  medi 
tatively,  "  I  think  it's  the  devil  to  pay.  Far  as  I 
can  see,  a  lot  depends  on  John  G.  Slade.  There's 
no  doubt  there's  a  crowd  after  his  scalp." 

"Will  they  get  it?" 


190  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Looks  so;  but  he's  got  nine  lives,  they  say." 
"Where  the  deuce  are  we  going?"  said  Beecher, 
suddenly  aware  of  the  swift  flight  through  the  now 
deserted  regions  of  the  lower  city. 
"  Down  to  McKenna's  offices." 
"  As  late  as  this  ?  " 

"  Guess  these  days  keep  him  pretty  busy." 
"  Didn't  he  say  anything  about  his  clue  ?  " 
"  Said  he'd  traced  the  history  of  the  stone." 
They  soon  came  to  a  stop  in  one  of  the  blocks  on 
Broadway  within  a  stone's  throw  of  old   Trinity, 
and,  descending,  entered  a  dingy  four-story  build 
ing  pinched  in  among  the  skyscrapers.     At  the  sec 
ond    flight   of    worm-eaten   stairs,    Gunther   pushed 
open  a  smoky  glass  door  and  entered  a  short  ante 
chamber  inclosed  in  sanded  glass  with  sliding  pigeon 
holes  for  observation.     Their  arrival  being  expected, 
they   were   immediately  shown   down  a   contracted 
hallway  studded  with  doors,  to  an  open  room,  com 
fortably  furnished,  with  a  fire  burning  in  the  grate. 

"  Join  you  in  a  moment,  gentlemen,"  said  Mc- 
Kenna,  nodding  around  the  door  of  the  adjoining 
room. 

Gunther  unceremoniously  helped  himself  at  the 
open  box  of  cigars. 

"  Ted,"  he  said  enthusiastically,  "  why  the  deuce 
do  the  novelists  concoct  their  absurdly  stalking  de 
tectives,  who  deduce  everything  at  a  glance,  with 
their  impossible  logical  processes?  Don't  they  see 
the  real  thing  is  so  much  bigger?  It's  not  the  fake 
individual  mind  that's  wonderful ;  it's  the  system  — • 
this  system.  A  great  agency  like  this  is  simply 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  191 

an  expression  of  society  itself  —  organized  order 
against  unorganized  disorder.  It's  an  unending 
struggle,  and  the  odds  are  all  on  one  side.  By 
George,  what  impresses  me  is  the  completeness  with 
which  society  has  organized  itself  —  made  use  of 
all  inventions,  telephone,  telegraph,  the  photograph, 
the  press,  everything  turned  on  the  criminal  to  run 
him  down.  For  a  hundred  detectives  employed  here, 
there  are  a  thousand  allies,  in  every  trade,  in  every 
depot,  in  every  port,  along  every  line  of  travel. 
When  you  think  of  the  agencies  that  McKenna  can 
stir  up  by  a  word,  then  you  begin  to  realize  the 
significance  of  the  detective  in  the  structure  of 
society." 

McKenna,  who  had  heard  the  last  words,  entered, 
vitally  alert  and  physically  excited  by  the  joy  of  un 
usual  labor. 

"  Now  I'm  with  you,"  he  said,  appropriating  an 
easy-chair.  "  Let's  see  where  we'll  begin.  Oh,  Mr. 
Beecher,  you  wanted  certain  information  about  that 
broker  Garraboy,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  What  have  you  found  out  ?  "  said  Beecher,  with 
a  conscious  eagerness  that  struck  both  hearers. 

"  It  just  so  happened  I  had  a  line  on  your  man 
from  another  direction,"  said  McKenna.  "  Well, 
he's  hit  the  market  right.  What  would  have  hap 
pened  if  this  panic  hadn't  come  just  right,  is  an 
other  question  —  a  rather  interesting  question. 
However,  Garraboy's  known  to  have  been  heavy  on 
the  short  side,  and,  from  all  reports,  stands  to  make 
a  killing." 

"  Then  Miss  Charters'  stocks  are  all  right  ?  " 


192  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"They're  all  right  —  yes  —  now,"  said  McKenna 
carefully;  "  but  my  advice  is  to  get  hold  of  them  — 
?.  D.  Q.  Mr.  Garraboy  is  somewhat  of  a  gambler. 
Now,  here's  a  bit  of  history  about  a  certain  ruby  that 
will  interest  you,"  he  continued,  drawing  out  a  mem 
orandum.  In  his  manner  was  a  little  amused  self- 
satisfaction,  as  one  who  relished  the  mystification  of 
the  outsiders.  "  In  the  first  place,  your  ruby  ring 
is  not  worth  fifteen  thousand." 

"  No  ?  "  said  Beecher  in  amazement. 

"  It's  worth  considerably  more,"  said  the  detect 
ive,  with  a  grin.  "  Its  last  sale  was  at  the  price  of 
thirty-two  thousand  dollars." 

"  What ! "  said  both  young  men  in  chorus. 

"  Just  that." 

"  But  then,  why  should  Mrs.  Kildair  value  it  at 
fifteen  ?  "  exclaimed  Beecher. 

"  That's  rather  an  interesting  point,"  said  Mc 
Kenna,  "  and  we'll  touch  on  that  later.  The  stone 
is  as  well  known  in  the  trade  as  John  L.  Sullivan  to 
you  and  me.  It  was  first  sold  in  New  Amsterdam  in 
the  year  1852  to  a  firm  of  Parisian  jewelers.  From 
them  it  was  bought  for  a  well-known,  rather  frisky 
lady  called  La  Panthere  by  a  Count  d'Ussac,  who 
ruined  himself.  La  Panthere  was  killed  later  by  a 
South  American  lover  and  her  effects  sold  at  auction. 
The  ruby  was  bought  by  the  firm  of  Gaspard  Freres, 
and  set  in  a  necklace  which  was  sold  to  the  Princess 
de  Grandliev.  At  the  fall  of  the  Second  Empire, 
the  necklace  was  broken  up  and  this  particular  stone 
went  over  to  England,  where  it  was  set  in  a  ring 
and  sold  to  a  young  dandy,  the  Earl  of  Westmorley, 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  19$ 

•who  was  killed  steeplechasing.  A  woman  named 
Clara  Hauk,  an  adventuress,  had  the  ring  in  her 
possession,  and  successfully  defeated  the  efforts  of 
the  family  to  regain  it.  She  got  into  bad  water  in 
the  '8o's  and  sold  it  to  a  South  African,  who  car 
ried  it  off  to  the  Transvaal  with  him.  It  reappeared 
in  the  offices  of  Caspar d  Freres  in  1891  on  the  finger 
of  a  young  Austrian  woman  who  sold  it  for  twenty- 
two  thousand  dollars  and  disappeared  without  giv 
ing  her  name.  An  Italian,  the  Marchese  di  Rubino, 
bought  it  for  a  wedding  present  to  his  daughter,  who 
kept  it  until  1900,  when  she  pledged  it  to  pay  the 
gambling  debts  of  her  husband.  It  was  then  brought 
to  this  country  by  the  wife  of  a  Western  rancher, 
who  sold  it  five  years  later  to  Sontag  &  Co.  The 
last  sale  known  was  just  two  months  ago." 

"Two  months?"  said  Beecher,  craning  forward. 

"  The  price,  as  I  said,  was  thirty-two  thousand, 
and  the  purchaser  was  a  certain  gentleman  very 
much  before  the  public  now  —  John  G.  Slade." 

This  announcement  was  so  entirely  unexpected 
that  it  left  the  two  young  men  staring  at  each  other, 
absolutely  incapable  of  speech. 

"  But  then,"  said  Gunther,  the  first  to  recover, 
"  the  ring  was  given  her  by  Slade !  " 

"  At  a  cost  of  thirty-two  thousand,"  said  the  de 
tective  in  a  quick,  businesslike  tone. 

"You  are  sure?" 

"  As  positive  as  any  one  can  be.  There  are  only 
three  other  rings  — " 

:<  That's  why  she  wanted  to  keep  it  quiet ! "  ex 
claimed  Beecher,  rousing  himself  from  his  stupor. 


194  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

The  whole  machination  of  Mrs.  Kildair  became  com 
prehensible  to  him  on  the  instant.  "  Now  I  see !  " 

"  Precisely/''  said  McKenna.  "  Of  course  there 
is  a  chance  that  Slade  did  not  give  her  the  ring;  that 
I'll  know  tomorrow." 

"How?" 

"  Make  an  inquiry  —  for  a  supposed  purchaser, 
of  course;  find  out  if  the  ring  is  still  at  Slade's." 

"  It's  useless,"  said  Beecher  firmly.  "  I  know 
that  McKenna's  right.  This  explains  everything," 
he  continued,  turning  to  the  detective.  "  That's 
why  she  acted  so  strangely  "  —  he  checked  himself. 
"  I  saw  Mrs.  Kildair  —  took  lunch  with  her  —  to 
day—" 

"  Did  you  find  out  wrhom  she  employed  ?  "  said 
McKenna  quietly. 

Beecher  opened  his  lips  to  answer  in  the  affirma 
tive,  and  stopped  abruptly.  For  the  first  time,  he 
realized  that  Mrs.  Kildair  had  taken  back  the  ad 
dress.  He  rose  nervously,  frowning  at  the  stupidity 
he  would  be  forced  to  disclose. 

"  By  Jove,  I  am  an  ass ! "  he  said,  dropping  his 
glance;  and  he  related  the  scene  in  which  Mrs.  Kil 
dair  had  first  given  him  the  address  and  then  taken 
it  away. 

"  It's  not  important,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  the  de 
tective  pensively,  his  mind  working  behind  the  re 
cital.  "  She  didn't  give  you  the  right  address." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Beecher,  turning. 

"  Because  she  recovered  the  paper  as  soon  as  she 
found  out  you  were  employing  me,"  he  answered; 
but  his  mind  was  still  out  of  the  room.  He  took  out 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  195 

a  pencil  and  began  tapping  his  memorandum  with 
quick,  nervous  jots.  "  Her  mind  worked  pretty 
quick,"  he  said. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  know  her  detectives?" 
asked  Gunther. 

"  You  see,  the  case  is  complicated,"  said  McKen- 
na,  rousing  himself.  "  I  won't  go  into  her  relations 
with  Slade  just  now,  but  it's  quite  evident  to  any 
one  they  were  such  that  Mrs.  Kildair  prefers  to  lose 
the  ring  rather  than  to  have  it  discovered  how  it 
came  to  her.  See  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Gunther. 

Beecher,  silent,  was  turning  over  in  his  mind  all 
the  incidents  of  Slade's  and  Mrs.  Kildair's  conduct, 
striving  to  reach  some  explanation  but  the  natural 
one  that  forced  itself  on  him. 

"  That's  why,"  continued  McKenna,  "  I'd  like  to 
know,  first,  if  the  detectives  are  straight  —  can  be 
depended  upon;  second,  if  they  were  told  to  make 
a  search;  and,  third,  if  they  were  told  not  to  find 
the  ring." 

"But  why  not?" 

"  Because,  Mr.  Gunther,  whoever  took  that  ring 
the  second  time  didn't  take  it  on  impulse  or  with 
out  a  plan ;  whoever  took  it  probably  —  I  don't  say 
certainly  —  knew  enough  of  its  history  to  know  that 
Slade  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Kildair,  and  reckoned  on  the 
fact  that  she  would  not  dare  to  make  it  public 
See?" 

The  corners  of  his  eyes  contracted  suddenly,  as 
though  through  the  movement  of  propelling  forward 
the  quick,  decisive  glance. 


196  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 


Then  you  think/'  said  Beecher  slowly,  "  that  she 


is—" 


"Look  here,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  the  detective 
quickly,  "  there  is  one  thing  no  human  being  can 
ever  say  offhand ;  what  says  the  Bible  —  the  way  of 
a  man  with  a  maid  —  well,  make  that  woman  in 
general.  You  don't  know,  and  I  don't  know,  what 
the  situation  is  right  there,  and  we  may  never  know. 
All  the  same,  we're  now  started  on  solid  ground;  it 
may  lead  to  something,  and  it  may  not,  but  what  I 
want  to  know  before  we  get  much  further  is  who 
and  how  many  there  that  night  knew  or  guessed 
Slade  gave  her  the  ring." 

"Of  course,"  said  Gunther.     "But  how — " 

"  By  patience  and  by  running  down  every  alley 
till  we  find  it  is  an  alley,"  said  McKenna.  "  That's 
one  thing  to  keep  in  mind,  and  let's  put  it  this  way. 
Was  there  any  one  there  that  night  who  had  to 
have  money  quick,  and  who  knew  that  the  fact  of 
Slade's  giving  the  ring  would  tie  Mrs.  Kildair's 
hands?  Now,  if  that  condition  existed,  we're  on  a 
strong  motive." 

"  You  don't  consider  that  the  only  lead,"  said 
Beecher,  convinced  as  he  was  of  the  probability  of 
Mr.  Majendie's  participation. 

"  Lord,  no.  Here's  one  other  point  to  work  on, 
Mr.  Beecher.  What's  the  situation  today  between 
Slade  and  Mrs.  Kildair?  Has  there  been  any  quar 
rel  —  say  within  the  last  ten  days  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so ;  and  yet  —  "  Beecher  stopped, 
remembering  Mrs.  Kildair's  curious  request  for  him 
to  outstay  the  promoter.  "What  if  there  was?" 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  197 

"  Slack's  a  remarkable  character,"  said  McKenna, 
smiling.  "  Just  how  remarkable  a  few  people  will 
learn  shortly.  If  he  had  quarreled  or  she's  been  try 
ing  to  trick  him  —  just  like  him  to  take  the  ring 
the  second  time." 

"  By  George!  "  said  Gunther.     "  Why  not?  " 

"  That's  only  something  to  be  kept  in  the  back 
ground,"  said  McKenna,  rising. 

He  turned  to  Beecher,  considering  him  pro 
foundly. 

"  Sorry  you  told  Mrs.  Kildair  I  was  on  the  case," 
he  said. 

Beecher  blushed  at  the  memory  of  the  way  in 
which  he  had  been  brought  to  disclose  the  informa 
tion,  and  the  confusion  all  at  once  revealed  to  the 
detective  the  probable  means  she  had  taken. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  voice  called 
him. 

"  Telephone,  sir  —  personal." 

When  the  detective  had  left,  Beecher  and  Gun 
ther  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement  in  which  a 
curious  doubt  was  beginning  to  form. 

"  Why  the  deuce  should  Slade  give  her  the  ring, 
Ted  ?  "  said  Gunther  abruptly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Beecher  answered,  perplexed. 
"  I  know  what  you  think  —  that's  natural ;  but  I 
don't  believe  it.  She's  deeper  than  that  —  that  is,  I 
think  so." 

But  he  ended  perplexed,  contracting  his  eyebrows, 
nervously  jerking  at  a  button  on  his  coat. 

McKenna  reentered,  and  on  his  face  was  a  smile 
of  anticipation  and  mischief. 


198  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Some  one  called  me  up  just  then/'  he  said 
shortly ;  "  some  one  I've  been  expecting  to  call  me 
up.  Guess  who?" 

"  Slade,"  said  Gunther,  startled. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  Beecher. 

"Mrs.  Kildair  is  right,"  said  McKenna.  "  I'm 
going  up  to  see  her  tonight."  And  he  added  med 
itatively,  "  It  ought  to  be  quite  an  interesting  little 
chat." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AT  eight  o'clock  promptly  McKenna  presented 
himself  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Kildair's  apart 
ment.  Kiki,  with  his  velvet  glide,  ushered  him  into 
the  studio.  The  electric  chandeliers  were  dull ;  only 
the  great  standing  lamp  was  lit,  throwing  a  foggy 
luster  about  the  room,  massing  enormous  dark 
silhouettes  and  spaces  in  the  corners. 

"  Is  it  a  precaution?  "  he  thought  grimly,  consider 
ing  this  serviceable  obscurity. 

He  felt  a  sudden  heightened  sense  of  curiosity 
and  defiance,  a  feeling  that  had  been  growing  within 
him  ever  since  the  discovery  of  Slade's  connection 
with  the  ring,  and  the  brief,  disjointed  details  of 
Beecher's  interview.  Every  profession  develops, 
back  of  its  elaborate  technique,  a  sudden  quality  of 
instinct  which  exists  as  the  almost  mechanical  and 
unguided  operation  of  the  disciplined  mind.  Mc 
Kenna  had  no  sooner  entered  the  room  than  he  per 
ceived  the  woman  with  a  quick  defensive  "  on 
guard  "  of  all  his  faculties. 

He  stopped  in  the  center  of  the  room,  like  a 
pointer  flushing  his  game,  and  in  the  second's  rapid 
inhalation  he  completely  changed  his  scheme  of  at 
tack.  He  felt  at  once  that  he  had  to  do  not  alone 
with  —  what  he  expected  —  a  woman  of  unusual 
physical  attraction,  clever,  with  the  defensive  intuition 
of  one  who  has  evaded  the  scrutiny  of  society;  but 

199 


200  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

with  a  woman  of  mental  grasp  and  decision.  He  felt 
it  everywhere:  in  the  remarkable  adjustment  of 
the  square  room  which  broke  it  up  into  half  a 
dozen  separate  groups,  distinctive  and  sure  as  though 
so  many  separate  selves;  in  the  harmony  of  color 
and  proportion,  which  he  felt  without  analysis; 
in  the  seduction  of  the  Recamier  couch  with  its  east 
ern  drapery  of  blue  and  gold;  in  the  friendly  comfort 
of  the  grouped  chairs  by  the  baronial  fireplace;  in 
the  correct  intimacy  of  the  reading-table  at  one  end 
and  the  formality  of  the  grouped  chairs  by  the  piano. 
All  these  notes  were  to  him  notes  of  the  hand  that 
had  arranged  them,  as  he  felt  in  the  struggling  mus 
cles  of  the  bared  marble  torsos,  wrestling  on  the 
mantel,  and  the  lithe,  virile  body  of  the  discus- 
thrower  on  the  table,  the  virility  and  aggressiveness 
of  the  woman.  This  perception  awoke  his  defiance 
as  though  one  personality  had  been  substituted  for 
another. 

"  What  does  she  want  with  me  ?  "  he  thought. 
"  Is  she  daring  enough  to  tell  me  all,  or  is  she  wor 
ried  at  what  I  may  know  ?  " 

While  he  was  still  in  the  midst  of  his  reflections, 
Mrs.  Kildair  entered.  She  was  in  street  costume: 
a  tailor-made  dress  of  dark  blue,  edged  with  black 
braid,  the  stiffness  and  sobriety  relieved  by  a  full 
fichu  at  her  throat.  The  red  flight  of  a  feather 
crossed  the  Gainsborough  hat. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  she  said,  nodding  to  him, 
a  crisp,  businesslike  abruptness  in  her  voice.  "  A 
little  more  light  would  be  better.  Thanks.  The 
button  is  by  the  door." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  201 

Prepared  as  he  had  been  to  be  surprised,  he  had 
not  expected  this  businesslike  manifestation.  He 
went  to  the  wall,  following  her  directions,  and  threw 
on  the  lights. 

"  Only  the  side  lights,"  she  said.  "  That's  it. 
Shall  we  sit  here?" 

She  took  her  position  by  the  reading-table  in  a 
great  high-backed  upholstered  arm-chair.  Obeying 
her  gesture,  he  drew  up  his  chair  to  a  position  op 
posite.  In  the  varied  experiences  of  thirty  years,  he 
had  come  into  contact  with  women  of  all  walks  of 
life.  Without  the  psychological  analysis  of  subtle 
ties  of  the  lawyer  and  the  novelist,  he  had  an  un 
erring  instinct  for  the  crux  of  character.  "  Is  she 
good  or  is  she  bad  ?  "  was  the  question  that,  in  ninety 
cases  out  of  a  hundred,  he  put  to  himself  at  the  turn 
ing-point  of  his  campaigns.  For  the  first  time,  de 
spite  his  previous  prejudice,  he  was  in  doubt  for  an 
answer,  but  he  recognized  in  her  at  once  the  stamp 
of  that  superior  brood  which  raises  some  men  to 
fame  and  fortune  where  others  by  one  trait  of  con 
science  or  weakness  end  in  a  disgraceful  failure. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  meet  you  for  a  long  time,  Mr. 
McKenna,"  she  said  directly,  but  without  the  ac 
companying  smile  of  feminine  flattery.  "  Mr.  Slade 
has  told  me  much  about  you." 

"Slade?"  he  said,  with  a  quick  simulation  of 
surprise,  while  admiring  the  abruptness,  amazing  in 
a  woman,  with  which  she  had  launched  her  attack. 

"  You  realize,  of  course,  Mr.  McKenna,"  she  con 
tinued  quietly,  without  giving  him  time  to  deny  her 
first  implication,  "that  Mr.  Beecher,  in  engaging 


202  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

you,  has,  quite  without  his  knowledge,  brought  on  a 
situation  that  is  very  embarrassing  to  me." 

"  Good !  "  thought  the  detective.  "  She  has  made 
up  her  mind  to  tell  the  whole  story."  Aloud  he  said, 
without  change  of  expression :  "  In  what  way,  Mrs. 
Kildair?" 

"  A  situation  exists  which  makes  it  extremely  dif 
ficult  for  me  to  recover  my  ring  without  disclosing 
to  the  public  matters  in  my  own  private  life  that  at 
present  are  liable  to  great  misconstruction." 

She  spoke  professionally,  without  variation  in  her 
voice,  as  a  doctor  speaking  with  dispassionate  direct 
ness.  McKenna  did  not  answer,  resolving  by  his 
silence  to  force  her  to  talk. 

"  A  week,"  she  continued  without  pause,  though 
her  eyes  remained  without  wavering  on  his,  " —  ten 
days  at  the  most  —  may  completely  change  this  posi 
tion.  I  won't  conceal  from  you  that  I  am  extremely 
sorry  that  you  have  been  brought  into  the  case." 
McKenna  could  not  control  an  expression  of  sur 
prise.  "  But,  now  that  you  are  in  it,  I  shall  be  forced 
to  give  you  a  confidence  against  my  inclination." 

"  But  — "  began  the  detective. 

"  One  moment,"  she  said,  interrupting  him.  "  Be 
fore  I  give  you  this  confidence  I  wish  to  ask  one 
question." 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,  I  must  remind  you,"  said  Mc 
Kenna  warily,  "  that  I  am  engaged  in  the  interests 
of  Mr.  Beecher,  and  can  do  nothing  without  his  per 
mission." 

"  Are  you  representing  any  one  besides  Mr. 
Beecher?"  she  said,  ignoring  his  objection. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  203 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  said  carefully,  to  gain 
time. 

"  Are  you,  in  this  particular  case,  representing 
Mr.  Slade?"  she  said  directly. 

"  I  have  never  said  that  I  was  employed  by  him, 
Mrs.  Kildair,"  he  said  slowly,  comprehending  now 
the  full  purpose  of  her  opening  question. 

"  Mr.  Slade  has  told  me  himself  of  your  work  in 
connection  with  the  Gray  Fox  Mines,  the  Farmers' 
and  Travelers'  Bank,  and  the  more  personal  affair 
of  your  recovery  of  his  letters  from  a  Miss  Minna 
West  on.  You  see,  I  am  informed." 

"  I  have  worked  for  Mr.  Slade,"  said  McKenna. 

"  And  are  you  doing  so  now?  "  she  asked  sharply. 

"  I  never  refer  to  my  clients,  Mrs.  Kildair,"  he 
said  stiffly. 

"  I  desire  to  put  this  matter  entirely  in  your  hands 
—  without  reserve,"  she  said  quickly.  "  All  I  ask 
from  you  is  a  promise  that,  notwithstanding  your 
relations  with  him  past  or  present,  nothing  I  say  to 
you  shall  be  repeated  to  Mr.  Slade,  or  to  any  one 
else." 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  McKenna,  every  faculty  joy 
fully  grateful  for  the  contest  of  wits  he  felt  impend 
ing,  "  I  must  remind  you  that  my  employer  is  Mr. 
Beecher,  and  that  I  can  promise  nothing  that  will 
keep  him  from  doing  anything  he  desires." 

"  Mr.  Beecher  is  acting  for  me,"  she  said  calmly. 
"Very  well;  your  position  is  correct.  I  will  put  it 
this  way.  Subject  to  Mr.  Beecher's  approval,  will 
you  give  me  your  word  that  you  will  repeat  nothing 
of  what  I  may  tell  you  ?  " 


204  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"If  Mr.  Beecher  is  willing,  I  am,"  said  McKenna 
obstinately.  "  That's  my  word." 

"  Now  I  can  speak  to  you  freely,"  said  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair. 

"  I  have  not  promised  yet,"  broke  in  McKenna. 

"  I  will  take  the  risk,"  she  said,  brushing  aside  the 
obstacle  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  I  remain  entirely  free  to  communicate  any 
thing  to  Mr.  Beecher,"  interposed  the  detective  in 
stantly. 

'  You  do  not  understand,"  she  said,  without  irri 
tation.  "  Mr.  Beecher,  in  retaining  you,  did  so  to 
assist  me,  and  only  after  he  had  secured  my  permis 
sion.  Now  I  desire,  in  order  to  arrive  at  quicker 
results  and  to  be  free  to  give  you  my  full  confidence, 
to  transfer  that  authority  direct  to  me.  In  other 
words,  Mr.  McKenna,  I  wish  to  retain  you  myself 
and  for  myself  only." 

"  That,  Mrs.  Kildair,  depends  entirely  on  Mr. 
Beecher,"  repeated  the  detective. 

"  But  if  he  acquiesces,  will  you  act  in  my  interests 
only?" 

McKenna  was  about  to  interpose  another  evasion, 
when  he  reflected  that  he  would  have  time  to  ac 
quaint  Beecher  with  what  had  happened  and  to  ad 
vise  him  either  to  accept  or  to  refuse. 

"  Very  well,"  he  replied  cautiously,  feeling  in 
stinctively  that  some  trap  was  being  prepared  with 
out  yet  perceiving  what  it  could  be.  "  I  will  leave 
it  that  way." 

"  Good,"  she  said,  with  a  little  nod  of  her  head 
"  Now,  what  have  you  done  ?  " 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  205 

"  I  can  not  answer  that,  Mrs.  Kildair,"  he  said, 
smiling;  "  not  under  my  present  arrangement." 

"  You  have,  of  course,  discovered  that  the  ring 
belongs  to  Mr.  Slade?" 

Quite  unconsciously,  she  had  adopted  his  own  tac 
tics,  the  tactics  of  the  inquisitor,  who  hurls  the  vital 
question  at  the  suspect,  and  then  seeks  the  answer 
in  the  almost  imperceptible  response  in  the  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  McKenna,  who  felt  that 
the  surprise  he  had  experienced  at  having  the  tables 
thus  turned  on  him  had  revealed  the  truth  to  the 
questioner.  "  That  is,  I  know  the  ring  did  belong 
to  Mr.  Slade." 

"  Have  you  informed  Mr.  Beecher  of  the  fact?  " 

"  It  has  just  come  to  my  knowledge,"  said  Mc 
Kenna;  "I  shall,  naturally,  inform  him." 

Mrs.  Kildair  looked  at  him  a  moment  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  reflection. 

"  The  question  was  quite  unnecessary,"  she  said. 
"Of  course,  you  have  told  him,  and  you  have  every 
right  to  deny  it."  Then  she  continued  with  more 
decision :  "  This  is  exactly  my  danger  —  you  see, 
I  won't  mince  words.  It  is  a  situation  which  con 
stantly  occurs,  and  which  is  inexplicable  except  by 
one  construction  in  the  eyes  of  society.  Now  — " 

"  I  warn  you,"  again  objected  the  detective. 

"  I  do  not  propose  to  explain  my  relations  with 
Mr.  Slade,"  continued  Mrs.  Kildair  coldly.  "  They 
are  such  that  a  great  deal  depends  on  the  events  of  the 
next  few  days.  At  present  it  is  enough  that  I  can 
not  explain  my  possession  of  the  ring  in  any  way 
that  can  satisfy  publicity." 


206  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Mr.  Slade  did  not  give  you  the  ring?  "  said  Mo 
Kenna,  in  slow  progression. 

She  carefully  considered  the  question. 

"  Mr.  Slade  sent  me  the  ring  with  an  offer  of 
marriage,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair  evenly,  with  an  appear 
ance  of  great  frankness.  "  The  ring  arrived  on  the 
night  of  the  party,  and  I  committed  the  imprudence 
of  wearing  it.  If  its  source  now  becomes  known, 
I  must  appear  before  the  world  either  as  Mr.  Slade's 
mistress  or  as  his  fiancee;  and  at  present  I  have 
not  made  up  my  mind  whether  I  shall  marry  him." 

The  directness  of  this  avowal  left  McKenna  im 
mersed  in  thought.  He  looked  at  her,  unaware  of 
the  fixity  of  his  stare;  and,  inclined  as  always  to 
skepticism,  he  asked  himself  if  back  of  all  the  outer 
gilt  of  this  proud,  determined  woman,  there  were 
not  a  stalking  shadow  of  insistent  poverty,  whether 
the  game  she  was  playing  with  Slade  were  not  a 
greater  drama  than  that  in  which  he  was  engaged; 
whether,  in  fact,  it  lay  not  on  a  turn  of  the  balance 
whether  the  world  should  know  her  as  the  wife  or 
that  very  alternative  which  she  had  dreaded  in  the 
exposure  of  the  ownership  of  the  ring? 

"What  does  she  really  want  of  Slade?"  he  said 
to  himself,  staring  so  profoundly  beyond  the  set  gaze 
of  the  woman  that,  for  the  first  time,  she  moved 
with  a  little  annoyance. 

"  Mr.  McKenna !  "  she  said  sharply. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  stiffening  abruptly. 

"  You  perceive  now  the  delicacy  of  my  position," 
she  said ;  "  and  why  I  desire  to  have  you  completely 
in  my  interests." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  207 

"  I  do,"  he  answered,  but  still  clinging  to  the  sav 
ing  rope  of  defiance.  "  I  only  regret  that  you  told 
me  this  before  Mr.  Beecher's  — " 

"  Now  ask  me  any  questions  you  wish,"  she  said, 
interrupting  him  impatiently. 

"  I  don't  feel  at  liberty  to  do  so,  Mrs.  Kildair," 
he  said  warily,  convinced  that  her  whole  motive  was 
to  find  out  the  extent  of  his  knowledge.  "  I  prefer 
to  know  first  where  I  stand." 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "Let  us  talk  of  other 
things,  then."  Her  manner  changed  to  one  of  a 
lighter,  inconsequential  curiosity.  "  There  is  one 
point  in  the  frightful  happenings  of  the  day  I  should 
like  to  know." 

"  What,  madam  ?  "  said  McKenna,  whose  instinct 
warned  him  to  adopt  a  tone  of  artless  attention. 

"  Majendie  was  followed  by  detectives,  was  he 
not?" 

"  That  is  the  report." 

"  And  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  when  he 
perceived  that  he  would  be  followed?" 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  told." 

"  And,  believing  that  he  was  about  to  be  arrested, 
he  returned  to  the  house  and  shot  himself." 

"  That's  the  story." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  wasn't  he  mistaken?  " 

"  In  what  way?  "  said  McKenna,  steeling  himself 
under  an  appearance  of  surprise. 

"  Were  not  the  detectives  your  own  men  —  placed 
by  you  at  Mr.  Slade's  orders  to  acquaint  him  with 
every  move  of  Mr.  Majendie?"  persisted  Mrs. 
Kildair. 


208  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  That  would  make  a  good  Sunday  thriller,"  said 
McKenna,  laughing  boisterously. 

"  That  is  my  guess,"  she  said,  drawing  back  as 
though  satisfied.  "  I  am  certain  that  Majendie  com 
mitted  suicide  through  the  blunder  of  believing  he 
was  threatened  with  arrest." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Kildair,"  said  the  detective,  ris 
ing,  "  I  see  that  what  you  want  to  know  is,  am  I 
for  or  against  Mr.  Slade.  If  I'm  not  in  his  employ 
you  think  I'm  retained  by  his  enemies.  Well,  I  don't 
intend  to  give  you  any  information." 

She  made  no  answer,  but,  rising  in  turn,  glanced 
at  the  clock. 

"  Since  you  are  here,"  she  said  carelessly,  "  you 
may  as  well  look  over  the  ground."  And,  without 
waiting,  she  went  to  the  door.  "  This  is  my  bed 
room.  The  ring  was  placed  here." 

He  had  hardly  made  his  quick  professional  scru 
tiny  when  there  came  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  at  a 
sign  from  Mrs.  Kildair  they  returned  to  the  studio. 

"  What  now  ?  "  thought  McKenna,  who  remem 
bered  her  glance  at  the  clock.  "  Slade  or  who  ?  " 

To  his  surprise,  it  was  Beecher  who  entered.  Mrs. 
Kildair  went  directly  to  him,  a  smile  of  confidence 
and  welcome  on  her  face,  holding  out  an  eager  hand, 
and  by  the  elation  of  her  movements,  the  detective 
comprehended  how  she  had  played  him. 

"Teddy,"  she  said  directly,  "I  have  a  favor  to 
ask  you,  and  I  trust  you  so  completely  that  I  know 
I  need  not  explain  it  further.  Mr.  McKenna  and 
I  have  had  a  very  complete  understanding.  I  wish 
him  to  represent  me  entirely.  I  do  not  mean  that 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  209 

you  should  not  continue  to  work  on  the  case/'  she 
added  quickly,  as  she  felt  instinctively  the  gesture  of 
warning  McKenna  made  behind  her  back.  "  All  I 
wish  you  to  tell  him  is  that  anything  I  may  have 
told  him  or  will  tell  him  shall  be  considered  confi 
dential  until  the  time  I  am  able  to  tell  you  myself. 
I  must  throw  myself  on  your  chivalry  and  protection 
as  the  fine  gentleman  I  have  seen  you  to  be/'  she 
added,  looking  at  him  with  a  moistening  of  the  eyes 
in  which  there  was  respect  and  a  more  tender  emo 
tion. 

McKenna,  though  perceiving  how  completely  she 
had  prepared  the  isolation  of  the  confidence  he  had 
just  heard,  did  not  again  signal  his  objection,  per 
haps  divining  the  futility  of  opposing  such  an  appeal. 

Beecher  bowed  in  assent. 

"  Certainly,  Rita,"  he  said,  with  a  pride  that 
brought  a  smile  of  amusement  to  McKenna's  lips. 
"  I  wish  McKenna  to  do  everything  he  can  for  you 
and  in  exactly  the  way  you  wish." 

"  Thank  you/'  she  said,  with  a  little  pressure  of 
his  hand.  Then  turning,  she  added :  "  This  I  will 
say  to  you  both.  I  have  my  reasons  for  believing 
that  the  ring  will  be  returned  within  ten  days;  if  it 
isn't  then  I  shall  have  more  to  disclose." 

"  Returned  ?  "  said  Beecher,  struck  by  the  similar 
ity  of  her  prophecy  and  that  of  Nan  Charters. 

"  Exactly.  Until  then,  I  believe  all  that  is  neces 
sary  is  to  wait  for  developments."  She  turned 
toward  the  detective,  who  waited  like  a  statue. 
"  Mr.  McKenna,  I  know  you  are  a  busy  man.  I 
won't  keep  you.  Mr.  Beecher  has  come  to  assist 


210  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

me  on  a  very  painful  errand,  one  on  which  I  would 
trust  no  other  man  that  I  know  in  New  York."  She 
held  out  her  hand.  "  I  do  not  often  make  mistakes 
in  men,  or  I  should  not  have  told  you  what  I  did. 
Good-night;  I  shall  call  you  soon." 

McKenna  bowed,  experiencing,  despite  his  resent 
ment  at  her  mastery  of  the  evening,  a  feeling  of  re 
spect  and  deference. 

"  Beecher  is  a  kitten  in  her  hands,"  he  said  to  him 
self  as  he  entered  the  street.  "  She  played  me  as  she 
wanted  to.  One  thing's  certain.  She  wants  to  em 
ploy  me  to  keep  me  from  doing  anything.  Evidently 
her  own  game  is  more  important  than  the  ring  — 
or  is  there  blackmail  mixed  up  in  this?  I  have  it! 
Mrs.  Kildair  knows  the  thief,  but  is  afraid  to  act 
until  —  until  certain  things  straighten  out  between 
her  and  Mr.  John  G.  Slade." 

"  And  now,  Teddy,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  as  soon 
as  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  detective,  "  you 
know  what  I  want  of  you.  I  have  arranged  every 
thing.  My  carriage  is  waiting." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Mrs.  Bloodgood  joined  them, 
heavily  veiled.  They  drove  to  the  house  next  to 
that  of  Majendie,  and,  at  a  word  from  Mrs.  Kildair, 
Beecher  remained  below  on  guard  in  the  flickering 
obscurity  of  the  street.  The  two  women  went  hur 
riedly  up  the  steps  of  Majendie's  home,  where  the 
door  was  opened  for  them  by  some  one  who  had  been 
awaiting  their  arrival. 

For  a  full  half-hour  Beecher,  prey  to  a  profound 
melancholy,  continued  his  aimless,  mechanical  pac- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  211 

ing,  his  head  raised,  glancing  past  the  jagged  black 
silhouettes  of  the  house-tops  at  the  reddened  clouds 
of  the  unreal  night,  which  brought  him  not  a  clear 
vision  of  immense  and  purifying  spaces  but  the  heavy 
reflection  of  the  illuminated,  surging  streets. 

"What  will  my  life  be?"  he  thought,  conjuring 
up  the  future.  "  Calm  and  commonplace  ?  Or  shall 
I  ever  be  linked  to  some  such  tragedy  —  torn  to 
pieces,  all  in  a  day  —  wrecked !  " 

The  door  opened  and  two  shadows  passed  down 
the  steps.  He  returned  hastily,  saw  them  into  the 
carriage,  and  stood  with  uncovered  head,  a  lump  in 
his  throat,  as  they  drove  on.  Then  he  went  directly 
to  his  rooms,  and,  exhausted  by  the  emotions  of  the 
day,  fell  heavily  into  a  sleep  that  was  almost  a  stupor. 


CHAPTER 

THE  next  morning  he  was  awakened  by  Gun- 
ther's  abrupt  hand. 

"  Up,  up,  you  sluggard !  " 

He  jumped  out  hastily  and  found  it  was  almost 
half-past  eight. 

"  Nice  time  to  sleep,"  said  Gunther  sarcastically. 
"  Have  you  forgotten  a  little  visit  we're  to  make  to 
that  sweet  person,  Mr.  Garraboy?  You've  got  just 
twenty-two  minutes  to  beautify  yourself  and  fill  the 
inner  being." 

"If  we're  to  see  your  charming  friend,  Mr.  Gar 
raboy,"  said  Gunther  half  an  hour  later,  as  they  were 
speeding  for  the  congested,  stirring,  lower  city, 
"  we've  got  to  nip  our  man  before  the  opening  of  the 
Stock  Exchange.  Now  let's  hear  what  happened  at 
Mrs.  Kildair's  last  night." 

The  events  in  which  Mrs.  Bloodgood  was  con 
cerned  were  sealed  in  confidence;  but  Beecher  felt 
at  liberty  to  recount  to  his  friend  the  bare  details 
of  McKenna's  visit  as  he  had  known  them. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  behind  it  all?"  said  Gunther, 
puzzled.  "  I  got  McKenna  on  the  wire  and  that's 
all  he  would  tell  me.  What's  the  reason  she  wants 
to  bottle  up  everything?  What's  her  mix-up  with 
Slade?  Depend  upon  it,  Ted,  that  woman  knows 
more  than  we  do  —  or  why  should  she  expect  the 

ring  to  be  returned?     She's  got  a  reason  for  that." 

212 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  If  it's  returned,"  said  Beecher,  "  it's  Mrs.  Blood- 
good  who  took  it." 

"  Never !  No  woman  ever  got  that  ring  out  of  the 
apartment  —  not  alone ;  not  a  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  or 
a  Nan  Charters,  or  a  Mrs.  Cheever,  or — "  Sud 
denly  he  reflected.  "  Ted,  there's  one  person  I'd 
like  to  meet." 

"Miss  Lille?" 

"  Yes.     Supposing  we  look  her  up  a  little  more." 

"  I've  thought  quite  a  lot  about  her,"  said  Beecher 
musingly;  and,  remembering  all  at  once  her  self-pos 
session  on  the  night  of  the  theft,  he  added :  "  There's 
nothing  weak  about  her  certainly ;  still,  I  can't  see  the 
motive." 

They  had  left  behind  them  the  free,  unbounded 
sky,  boring  their  way  through  the  towering  sides  of 
the  sky-scraping  district,  where  buildings  rose  in  reg 
ular,  comb-like  structures,  with  their  thousands  of 
human  cells  tenanted  by  human  bees.  Entering  a 
street  where  the  obstructed  sun  never  shone,  they 
were  swept  on  by  the  feverish  rush  of  fellow-beings 
and  shot  up  sixteen  stories  to  their  destination.  The 
office-boy  in  the  antechamber  took  their  cards  with 
the  condescension  which  only  an  office-boy  between 
the  ages  of  twelve  and  sixteen  can  feel,  and  disap 
peared  within. 

"  The  old  screw'll  keep  us  waiting  half  an  hour," 
said  Gunther,  who  disliked  all  delays. 

"  Bet  he's  trying  to  figure  out  what  we're  here 
for?"  said  Beecher,  who  admitted  to  himself  a  de 
licious  satisfaction  at  the  prospective  humiliation  of 
the  man  he  cordially  disliked. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

The  next  moment  Garraboy  himself  appeared  at 
the  rail,  dapper,  dried  up,  and  severe. 

"  How  do  you  do?  "  he  said  sharply,  but  without 
inviting  them  in.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  It's  a 
very  busy  day  for  me." 

"  I  assure  you  I  don't  intend  to  take  any  more 
time  than  I  am  compelled  to,"  said  Beecher  stiffly, 
with  an  accent  that  gave  another  meaning  to  the 
phrase.  He  plunged  his  hand  into  his  pocket.  "  I 
have  an  order  for  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now,"  said  Garraboy,  with 
a  malicious  drawing  up  of  his  lips.  "  You  can  save 
yourself  the  trouble." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Beecher,  greatly 
surprised. 

'*  You  have  an  order  on  me  to  deliver  certain 
stocks  I  hold  for  Miss  Charters  ?  " 

"  I  have." 

"  Well,  Miss  Charters  has  changed  her  mind,"  said 
Garraboy,  letting  his  glance  rest  on  Beecher  with  the 
vacant,  impudent  stare  of  which  he  was  master. 

"You  have  seen  Miss  Charters?"  said  Beecher, 
growing  very  angry. 

"  I  have ;  and  when  I  explained  to  her  that  she  had 
been  unduly  excited  by  some  one  who  evidently  is 
not  aware  that  there  are  laws  in  civilized  countries 
adequate  to  deal  with  those  who  attack  the  reputa 
tions  or  interests  — " 

"  Sir !  "  exclaimed  Beecher,  moving  so  quickly 
toward  the  rail  that  Garraboy  hastily  retreated. 

"  When  Miss  Charters  learned  that,  and  likewise 
that  she  had  parted  with  stocks  worth  considerably 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  215 

over  twenty  thousand  dollars,  she  changed  her  mind 
very  quickly." 

"  Mr.  Garraboy,"  said  Gunther  abruptly,  "  all  this 
is  not  to  the  point.  We  have  a  formal  order  on 
you  for  certain  stocks.  Ted,  present  it." 

"  True,  I  forgot,"  said  Garraboy,  and  produced 

from  his  coat  a  letter,  which  he  looked  over  with 

'nonchalant  delay  and  finally  handed  to  Beecher.     "  I 

'presume  you  are  acting  from  altruistic  motives  and 

are  not  standing  on  technicalities.     Here  is  a  little 

note  which  Miss  Charters  requested  me  to  give  you." 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Gunther 

at  once,  for  the  personality  of  the  broker  aroused 

the  pugnacious  side  of  him.     "  Your  transaction  has 

been  closed.     Get  your  stocks." 

Beecher,  frowning,  unable  to  conceal  the  vexation 
that  this  unexpected  check  brought  him,  opened  the 
letter.  The  address  by  its  formality  completed  his 
irritation : 

DEAR  MR.  BEECHER: 

Mr.  Garraboy  has  called  and  explained  everything  satis 
factorily.     I  am  afraid  I  was  needlessly  alarmed  last  night 
and  did  him  an  injustice.     As  he  has  shown  me  how  ad 
vantageous  it  will  be  for  me  to  transfer  my  holdings  to 
other  stocks,  now  far  below  their  market  value,  I  have  de- 
1  cided  not   to   lose  the  opportunity.     Thank  you   just   the 
same  for  your  interest  in  this  matter.     I  shall  be  in  at  five 
'this  afternoon  and  will  explain  to  you  more  fully. 
Cordially  yours, 

NAN   CHARTERS. 

The  two  watched  him  read  to  the  end,  fold  the 
letter  carefully,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 


216  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Well?"  said  Garraboy. 

"  Insist  on  the  delivery,  Ted,"  said  Gunther  mili- 
tantly.  "If  Miss  Charters  wants  to  return  them 
again,  that's  her  affair.  The  stocks  are  yours." 

He  looked  at  his  friend  with  a  glance  of  warning 
which  sought  to  convey  to  him  the  distrust  he  could 
not  openly  phrase. 

"If  Mr.  Beecher  wishes  to  stand  on  technicalities," 
said  Garraboy,  in  his  even,  oily  voice,  "  he  can  do  so. 
He  can  make  a  very  nice  profit.  Which  is  it?  I 
repeat,  I  can  not  give  you  much  time." 

"  Miss  Charters'  letter  is  sufficient,"  said  Beecher 
suddenly.  "  Good-day." 

The  feeling  of  mortification  and  chagrin  which  her 
action  had  brought  on  him  dominated  all  other  feel 
ings.  He  went  out  in  a  rage,  tearing  the  letter  into 
minute  fragments.  Without  a  word  they  reached 
the  street  and  entered  the  automobile. 

"  Last  time  I  ever  try  to  help  a  woman !  "  he  said, 
between  his  teeth. 

"  What  the  deuce  did  you  play  into  his  game  for  ?  " 
said  Gunther.  "  He's  bamboozled  her.  I  believe  the 
fellow  is  an  out-and-out  crook  —  he's  got  a  rotten 
bad  eye.  Why  the  deuce  didn't  you  get  the  stocks  ?  " 

"  She  can  take  her  own  risks,"  said  Beecher  furi 
ously.  "  It's  her  own  affair  if  she's  going  to  blow 
hot  and  cold.  By  Jove,  Bruce,  I  never  met  any  one 
who  could  make  me  so  mad  clear  through  and 
through." 

He  stopped,  biting  his  lips,  and  Gunther  with  a 
shy  glance  stored  away  for  future  comment  the  im 
pression  he  received. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  217 

"What's  the  use  of  taking  them  seriously?"  he 
said,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "  Amuse  your 
self,  but  don't  let  them  absorb  you.  Suppose  we 
take  a  turn  at  the  Curb  and  see  what's  doing." 

With  the  opening  of  the  market,  all  the  giant  sides 
of  Wall  Street  seemed  suddenly  animated  with  the 
fury  of  a  disturbed  ant-hill.  Every  one  was  rush 
ing  in  and  out,  carrying  with  them  the  pollution  of 
disaster  and  alarm.  Eddie  Fontaine  and  Steve  Plun- 
kett  hurried  past  them  with  quick  nods.  At  the  curb 
market  the  brokers  were  shrieking  and  flinging  their 
frantic  signals  in  the  air.  They  entered  the  Stock 
Exchange,  nodding  to  the  doorkeeper,  who  knew  Gun- 
ther,  and  reached  the  balcony,  their  ears  suddenly 
smitten  with  the  confused  uproar  from  below.  They 
stood  there  a  few  minutes,  marveling  at  that  Inferno 
of  speculation  and  embattled  greed  flung  before  them 
in  all  the  nakedness  of  man's  terror;  and  then  left, 
oppressed  by  the  too  frank  exhibition  of  their  mortal 
counterparts. 

"  What's  doing?  "  asked  Gunther  as  they  returned. 

The  doorkeeper,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
flung  down  his  thumb  —  the  gesture  of  the  Roman 
circus. 

"You  like  that?"  said  Beecher,  when  once  more 
they  were  in  the  automobile  and  the  din  and  oppres 
sion  of  cell-like  monstrosities  had  receded. 

"  I  do,"  Gunther  replied,  locking  and  unlocking 
his  broad  hands. 

"Horrible!" 

"  That's  only  one  side  of  it  —  speculation,"  said 
Gunther  warmly ;  "  but  even  that  is  impressive 


218  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Look  beyond  those  little  mobs  we  saw,  get  the  feel 
ing  of  the  whole  country,  the  vast  nation,  rising  in 
anger  —  flinging  over  hundreds  of  thousands  of  hold 
ings  —  sweeping  down  the  little  gamblers  with  the 
tremendous  waves  of  its  alarm.  Beyond  that  the 
\vhole  vibrating  industry  of  the  nation  is  here,  within 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  —  the  great  projects  of  develop 
ment,  the  wars  of  millions,  the  future  of  immense 
territories  to  the  West  and  the  South.  There's  a  big 
side  to  it  —  a  real  side  —  that  gets  me.  I've  a  mind 
to  walk  down  now  and  face  the  old  governor  and  tell 
him  I'm  ready." 

"Why  don't  you?"  said  Beecher.  He  himself 
had  felt  the  restlessness  of  indecision  and  enforced 
idleness.  He  gave  a  laugh.  "  You  know,  Bruce, 
I'm  beginning  to  feel  the  same  way.  Either  I've  got 
to  get  into  .the  current  somewhere,  or  I'm  going  to 
pack  off  for  Africa  some  fine  day." 

"  By  the  way,  .Tilton's  up  at  the  club.  He's  here 
for  a  few  days,  getting  ready  for  a  lion  hunt  or 
something." 

"Tilton?"  exclaimed  Beecher  joyfully.  "By 
Jove,  I  must  get  hold  of  him.  I'd  go  in  a  min 
ute!" 

He  believed  what  he  said.  The  whirl  of  emotions 
into  which  he  had  lately  been  plunged  —  revealing 
to  him  as  it  had  all  the  mercenary,  clutching  side 
of  the  city  —  had  left  him  disturbed,  rebellious, 
longing  to  be  away  from  the  mass  of  men  in 
general,  and  of  women  in  particular,  the  brilliant, 
keen,  and  calculating  women  of  the  city  with 
whom  he  had  been  thrown.  Impatient  and  disillu- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  219 

sionized,  without  realizing  the  true  cause,  he  repeated : 

"  By  Jove,  I'd  go  in  a  minute !  " 

In  the  afternoon  he  went  to  call  on  Miss  Char 
ters.  After  having  declared  twenty  times  that  he 
would  not  go  near  her,  he  suddenly  remembered,  at 
the  end  of  a  wearied  discussion  between  his  con 
science  and  his  inclination,  that  his  check  for  twenty 
thousand  dollars  was  to  be  reclaimed  and,  at  once 
seizing  such  a  satisfactory  reason,  he  abandoned  the 
attitude  of  embattled  dignity  which  he  had  logically 
built  up. 

"  That's  true;  I  must  get  the  check,"  he  said,  and 
he  set  out. 

But  as  he  neared  his  destination  and  began  to  re 
hearse  all  the  grave  causes  for  offense  that  he  held 
against  her,  he  was  surprised  at  the  slender  stock  of 
ammunition  he  held. 

"  Why,  it  was  perfectly  natural/'  he  thought, 
struck  by  the  idea  —  having  considered  her  reasons 
for  the  first  time.  "If  Garraboy  called  and  ex 
plained  everything  to  her  satisfaction,  why  shouldn't 
she  change  her  mind?  Besides,  there  is  nothing 
against  Garraboy  —  nothing  definite.  After  all,  I 
may  have  been  unjust  to  him." 

Very  sheepish,  he  felt  his  irritation  slipping  away 
as  he  yielded  to  the  eager  desire  of  once  more  enter 
ing  her  presence. 

"  What  the  deuce  was  I  so  wild  about?  "  he  asked 
himself,  amazed,  as  he  entered  the  elevator. 

But  all  at  once  he  remembered  that  she  had  allowed 
him  to  receive  the  news  at  the  hands  of  a  person  in 
tensely  disagreeable  to  him. 


220  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Why  didn't  she  telephone  me  ?  That's  the  whole 
point." 

And,  all  his  irritation  restored  by  this  one  out 
standing  fact,  he  entered  the  apartment  with  the 
dignity  of  a  justly  offended  person. 

She  was  seated  by  the  fire  in  an  easy-chair,  and 
she  did  not  rise  as  he  entered.  She  was  bending 
eagerly  forward,  an  open  manuscript  in  her  hand, 
and,  without  turning,  she  made  a  little  sign  to  him 
to  be  seated  until  she  should  have  finished. 

"  Wonderful !  "  she  cried  at  last,  dropping  the  play 
in  her  lap.  "  It  is  wonderful !  "  she  repeated,  her 
whole  body  vibrating  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
her  mood.  "  Wonderful  —  astonishing  —  what  a 
scene!"  And,  tapping  the  manuscript  with  a  ges 
ture  of  decision,  she  exclaimed :  "  I  will  play  that 
part  —  it  will  be  an  enormous  sensation !  " 

Her  mind  still  obsessed  by  the  thought  of  the 
newly  discovered  masterpiece,  she  turned  toward 
Beecher,  who  was  seated  like  a  ramrod  on  the  edge 
of  his  chair. 

"  A  marvelous  play !  Really,  that  Mr.  Hargrave 
is  a  coming  man."  Forgetting  her  previous  esti 
mate,  she  rushed  on :  "  Isn't  it  strange  —  I  always 
knew  he  would  do  it,  from  the  very  first!  What  is 
extraordinary  is  the  subtlety  of  it  —  how  he  twines 
two  or  three  emotions  together  in  the  same  scene. 
What  a  glorious  chance  for  an  actress!  I  must 
telephone  the  office." 

As  she  rose,  a  slip  of  paper  which  she  had  been 
using  as  a  marker  fluttered  to  the  floor.  She  picked 
it  up,  recognized  it,  and  handed  it  to  him. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Oh,  yes,  here's  your  check!  "  she  said.  "  I  put 
it  there  so  as  not  to  forget  it.  Thanks  very  much. 
I'll  explain  in  a  minute.  I  must  telephone  Stigler; 
I'm  all  excited!" 

Beecher,  more  annoyed  by  this  revelation  of  her 
professional  life  than  by  the  rub  to  his  vanity,  took 
the  check  and  pocketed  it  —  not  having  pronounced 
a  word  since  his  arrival. 

She  considered  him  carefully  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye  as  she  took  up  the  telephone;  but  her  per 
sonal  emotion  was  too  buoyant  for  trivial  interrup 
tions. 

Stigler,  her  manager,  was  out,  and  she  put 
down  the  receiver  with  a  jar  of  impatience.  She 
looked  at  Beecher  again,  and,  perceiving  that  there 
was  an  explanation  due,  sought  at  once  to  shift  the 
responsibility. 

"  Do  you  know,  really,  you  were  ridiculously 
alarmed  last  night,"  she  said,  a  spirit  of  opposition 
in  her  voice.  "  I  don't  know  what  made  you  so 
panicky." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  sarcastically,  "  I  realize  now 
that  I  should  never  have  stirred  you  up,  when  every 
thing  was  so  calm.  It's  strange  that  I  did  not  ex 
plain  to  you  the  natural  reasons  for  Mr.  Garraboy's 
not  calling  you  up  —  but  then,  I  usually  lose  my 
head  at  such  times." 

"  You  are  angry !  "  she  said. 

"  What  a  strange  idea !  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
a  charming  experience  to  enter  Mr.  Garraboy's  of 
fice  and  be  so  delightfully  reassured  that  everything 
was  so  prosperous  with  him." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

She  did  not  like  irony,  or  know  how  to  combat  it, 
so  she  frowned  and  said : 

"  I  telephoned  you." 

"  Why  should  you  do  that?  You  might  have  de 
prived  me  of  the  pleasure  of  meeting  your  charming 
friend,  Mr.  Garraboy." 

"  I  telephoned.     You  were  not  in." 

"When?" 

"  Last  night.     Four  times." 

He  was  mollified  by  this,  but  tried  not  to  show  it. 

"  And  this  morning?  " 

"  But  I  never  get  up  before  ten,"  she  cried,  aghast. 

"  Your  explanations  are  crushingly  convincing," 
he  said,  with  a  bow  and  a  smile. 

She  watched  him  with  an  uneasy  look,  totally  un 
conscious  of  any  sense  of  obligation,  accustomed  as 
she  was  to  have  her  requests  for  service  regarded  as 
favors.  The  reaction  from  their  last  interview  had 
left  her  in  a  coldly  antagonistic  state,  determined  to 
pluck  in  the  bud  this  progress  toward  intimacy  which 
had  so  threatened  her  scheme  of  life.  Now,  seeing 
him  collected  and  ironical,  she  was  instinctively 
alarmed  at  the  distance  which  he,  not  she,  had  placed 
between  them. 

"  My  dear  Teddy,"  she  began,  in  a  more  confiden 
tial  tone. 

"Teddy?"  he  said,  smiling. 

He  was  perfectly  good-natured,  and  as  she  felt 
that  he  was  not  irritated,  but  amusing  himself  at  her 
tricks  which  he  had  divined,  she  was  uneasy  under 
this  ironical  examination.  She  felt  that  he  had  es 
caped  her ;  and,  disturbed  by  this  thought,  she  looked 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

at  him,  seeing  all  at  once  his  quality.  As  he  had 
made  not  the  slightest  reference  to  the  very  apparent 
obligation  which  he  had  been  willing  to  undergo  for 
her,  she  felt  his  social  superiority  and  his  reticence 
of  good  breeding.  Besides,  other  women  —  brilliant 
women  —  had  been  attracted  by  him:  Mrs.  Craig 
Fontaine,  Mrs.  Kildair,  and,  above  all,  Emma  For- 
nez.  But  another  mood  had  possession  of  her,  the 
mood  of  the  artist  transformed  by  the  joy  of  per 
sonal  sensation.  She  wished  to  keep  him,  but  at 
the  moment  she  was  irritated  that  such  a  little  thing 
should  come  to  interfere  with  the  joy  of  the  imagined 
future  triumph. 

"  Don't  be  horrid,  Teddy,"  she  said  impatiently, 
and,  wishing  to  appease  him  quickly,  that  she  might 
talk  to  him  of  the  play,  she  continued :  "  The  fact 
is,  Mr.  Garraboy  has  done  everything  he  could  for 
me.  He  sold  my  stocks  a  week  ago,  foreseeing  this 
panic,  and  saved  me  several  thousand  dollars.  He 
offered  to  give  me  his  check  for  twenty-two  thou 
sand  five  hundred  dollars,  or  to  reinvest  it  for  me 
when  the  time  came  in  the  enormous  bargains  that 
can  be  picked  up  now.  What  was  I  to  do?  " 

"  You're  quite  right,  and  I  made  a  great  mistake 
to  mislead  you  so,"  he  answered,  with  great  serious 
ness. 

"  It  wasn't  your  fault,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"  Wasn't  it  ? "  he  said,  opening  his  eyes  with  a 
show  of  surprise. 

She  comprehended  that  she  would  have  to  sur 
render,  and,  changing  her  tone  to  one  of  gentleness, 
she  said : 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  It  was  a  great  thing  for  you  to  do  what  you  did, 
Teddy  —  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said,  persisting  in  misunderstand 
ing  her.  "  I  often  get  up  early  —  that  was  nothing 
at  all." 

"  You  are  not  at  all  the  way  you  were  last  time," 
she  said  reproachfully,  forgetting  that  that  was  just 
what  she  wished  to  avoid. 

But  at  this  moment  the  telephone  rang.  Stigler, 
her  manager,  was  calling.  Immediately  she  forgot 
their  misunderstanding,  carried  away  by  the  enthu 
siasm  of  the  moment.  Beecher,  with  a  clear  vision, 
followed  her,  noticing  in  her  voice,  as  she  sought  to 
cajole  the  manager,  the  same  caressing  pleading 
which  she  had  employed  a  moment  before  with  him. 

"  Now  I  really  see  her,"  he  thought,  with  a  libera 
tion  of  his  spirit.  "  Emma  was  entirely  wrong. 
She's  not  a  woman  —  she  always  an  actress." 

"  I'll  send  you  the  play  right  away,"  she  was  say 
ing.  "  Mr.  Hargrave  is  coming.  I'll  have  him  take 
it  to  the  hotel.  But  you  must  read  it  tonight. 
Promise!  Oh,  yes,  lots  of  comedy  —  delicious! 
Heart  interest  and  big  scenes — -yes,  sensational. 
Just  the  part  for  Fannestock.  I  must  have  him  for 
the  part !  You'll  see  him  in  every  line !  Now,  Mr. 
Stigler,  please  read  it  tonight !  " 

"  Ah,  there's  Fannestock  too,"  said  Beecher  grimly 
to  himself. 

She  rose  from  telephoning,  joyous  and  excited. 

"Oh,  if  Stigler  will  only  see  it!  It's  a  great 
part  —  a  great  part!  There's  a  wonderful  scene 
at  the  close  of  the  third  act,  between  the  two  worn- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  225 

en  and  the  father,  that  will  bring  down  the  house." 

Miss  Tilbury  came  in  to  announce  that  Mr.  Har- 
grave  was  calling.  An  expression  of  delight  lit  up 
the  features  of  the  actress.  But  all  at  once  she 
turned  anxiously  to  Beecher,  who  had  risen  stiffly. 

"  By  Jove,  I've  overstayed  my  time,"  he  said  read 
ily,  glancing  at  the  clock. 

She  was  grateful,  and  yet  dissatisfied  that  he  had 
suggested  what  she  wished,  and,  recalling  his  new 
spirit  of  independence,  she  said  anxiously,  with  a 
compensating  smile: 

"  Teddy,  call  me  up  in  the  morning  —  this  is  so 
important." 

In  the  hallway  he  stepped  aside  while  Hargrave,  a 
frail,  oldish-young  man,  entered,  with  his  famished, 
doubting  glance. 

"  Oh,  it  is  wonderful  —  wonderful !  "  cried  the 
actress,  seizing  both  his  hands.  "  I  am  still  thrilled. 
Wonderful  —  wonderful !  " 

"  You  liked  it  ?  "  said  Hargrave  timidly.  At  her 
words,  he  saw  heaven  open  before  his  eyes  in  a  con 
fused  vision  of  frantic  audiences,  applauding  critics, 
checks  for  thousands  for  royalty,  all  confused  by 
rolling  automobiles,  magnificent  bouquets  and  lan 
guishing  feminine  eyes. 

"  Like  it ! "  continued  Nan  Charters,  retaining 
hold  of  one  hand  to  draw  him  into  the  salon.  "  It 
is  marvelous !  How  could  you  know  all  this  —  so 
young!  " 

Beecher,  in  the  excitement,  quietly  made  his  es 
cape.  In  the  elevator,  to  the  surprise  of  the  won 
dering  bell-boy,  he  was  seized  with  a  mad  laughter, 


226  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

which  continued  to  convulse  him  as  he  rolled  into  the 
street. 

"  Heaven  be  praised !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Cured 
—  cured,  by  Jove!  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for 
worlds!" 

On  turning  the  corner  of  his  club,  he  ran  into 
Becker,  a  club  acquaintance  whom  he  tolerantly  dis 
liked. 

"  Becker,  old  boy,"  he  said,  seizing  his  arm  and 
flourishing  his  cane  in  the  direction  of  the  club, 
"what  can  I  buy  you?  Come  on  —  en  avant!" 

"  What  the  deuce  has  got  in  you  ?  "  said  that  cor 
rect  youth. 

"  Joy,  laughter,  everything !  I'm  happy  as  a  Cro- 
ton  water-bug  on  a  hot  marble  slab !  " 

At  the  bar,  he  gathered  every  one  in  sight,  slap 
ping  them  on  their  shoulders.  His  comrades  looked 
at  him  with  envy  and  awe,  believing  that  he  had 
profited  by  a  tip  to  make  a  killing  in  the  market. 
Their  own  enjoyment  was  little  enough.  The  mar 
ket,  outdoing  the  day  before,  had  plunged  like  a 
wild  steer  into  the  maelstrom  of  panic.  A  billion 
dollars  had  receded,  scattered,  evaporated  in  the  mad 
day.  The  disaster  had  reached  the  whole  country; 
every  bank  was  threatened.  The  United  States 
Treasury  had  been  implored  to  come  to  the  assist 
ance  of  the  country.  Gunther,  Fontaine,  Marx, 
Haggerty,  were  in  hourly  conference;  while  before 
the  swelling  hurricane  of  fright,  every  paper  was  im 
ploring  its  readers  to  stand  firm. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  next  day  Beecher  did  not  consider  for  a 
moment  telephoning  to  Nan  Charters,  despite 
her  last  request.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  chapter  closed 
in  his  life  —  one  of  those  innumerable  false  paths 
down  which  one  plunges,  only  the  quicker  to  return. 
His  own  serenity  did  not  even  surprise  him.  He 
went  off  for  the  morning  to  play  rackets  with  Bruce 
Gunther,  and  lunched  at  the  club  with  Tilton,  who 
urged  him  to  join  his  hunt,  an  invitation  which  he 
discussed  with  enthusiasm. 

The  news  from  the  stock  market  was  the  same  — 
ten  point  losses  in  the  early  trading.  Banks  all  over 
the  country  had  suspended  payments  for  a  week  in 
order  to  weather  the  storm.  The  panic  had  ceased 
to  be  one  of  speculative  concern  only.  Every  one 
was  anxiously  asking  if  a  permanent  blow  had  not 
been  dealt  to  the  industries  of  the  country.  Many 
freely  prophesied  that,  if  the  downward  rush  were 
not  checked  within  three  days,  it  would  take  the 
country  ten  years  to  restore  its  shattered  prosperity. 
There  was  a  rumor  that  the  big  men  of  the  Street 
had  made  up  a  fund,  reaching  to  many  millions, 
which  would  be  brought  on  the  morrow  to  the  sup 
port  of  the  market.  The  run  on  the  Associated 
Trust  still  continued,  checked  though  it  was  by  delay 
and  technicalities.  Yet  the  fall  of  Slade  was  hourly 
predicted. 


228  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Beecher  lingered  after  luncheon,  played  a  hun 
dred  points  at  billiards  and  won,  an  hour's  bridge 
and  won  again.  Then  he  went  off  in  high  spirits 
to  call  on  Emma  Fornez,  an  appointment  arranged 
over  the  telephone. 

"  So,  you  bad  boy,  you  and  your  little  Charters 
have  quarreled,"  said  the  prima  donna,  greeting  him 
with  an  accusing  smile,  though  in  her  voice  was  the 
pitch  of  the  nervous  excitement  which  her  coming 
debut  that  night  had  communicated. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  said,  a  little  surprised  at  the 
insinuation. 

"  Ta-ta-ta!  Enough  of  your  stuff  and  nonsense," 
she  said,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  "  You  are 
too  big  a  simpleton  —  a  little  woman  like  that  will 
always  get  the  best  of  you." 

"  But  there  is  no  quarrel,  and  I  am  not  in  the  least 
interested." 

"  Oh,  avec  ga  —  keep  away  —  better  keep  away ! 
You  will  burn  your  fingers.  Just  the  kind  of  a  little 
doll  that  is  dangerous.  Women  like  that  are  like 
half  colors  between  one  thing  and  the  other  —  very 
dangerous !  A  young  girl  —  jeune  fille  —  would 
bore  you  now,  and  an  old  campaigner  like  Emma 
Fornez  would  amuse  you;  but  a  little  thing  like  that 
is  too  puzzling  for  you.  I  see  just  how  it  is,"  she 
continued,  placing  her  hands  on  her  hips  and  bobbing 
her  head  energetically,  while  Beecher,  very  much 
pleased  to  be  so  lectured,  listened  with  a  mocking 
look.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  know  very  well !  She  gets  you 
—  how  do  you  say  ?  —  going  and  coming.  When 
she  is  an  actress  you  say  she  is  different  from  the 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  229 

rest  —  what  a  child !  And  when  she  is  playing  the 
child,  you  say  what  a  difference  —  she  is  such  an  ar 
tist!  You  laugh  —  see!" 

Beecher  broke  out  laughing  at  this  characteriza 
tion  which  came  so  near  the  truth. 

"  What  I  have  said  is  very  good  —  very  good," 
repeated  Emma  Fornez,  pleased.  "  It's  all  studied, 
very  carefully  studied  out,  but  it  takes  with  young 
simpletons,  big  geese,  good-looking  boys  —  don't 
I  know?  Est-ce-que  fen  ai  joue  de  ces  tours  la? 
Come,  now,  what  did  you  fight  about  ?  " 

Beecher  had  an  inclination  to  take  her  into  his 
confidence;  but  he  resisted  the  impulse,  and  to  turn 
the  conversation  said  artfully: 

"  By  Jove,  you  look  stunning !  You  won't  have 
to  sing  a  note." 

She  was  in  a  filmy  peignoir,  and,  as  his  glance 
showed  an  amused  admiration,  she  said,  with  a  look 
of  apology  which  she  did  not  feel  at  all,  gathering 
the  peignoir  closer  with  a  perfectly  simulated  mod 
esty : 

"It's  very  bad  —  my  receiving  you  like  this.  I 
am  going  through  my  costumes.  They  are  dreams. 
Wait,  you  shall  see  —  you  wish  to  see  them? 
Good !  "  All  at  once  she  stopped  and,  seizing  his 
arm,  cried :  "  Teddy,  I  am  in  a  cold  fright  —  I  shiver 
all  over  whenever  I  think  of  it.  New  York  audi 
ences  are  terrible.  It  will  be  a  big,  big  failure,  won't 
it?" 

"  There,  I'll  give  you  my  lucky  piece,"  he  said,  pat 
ting  her  shoulder  as  he  would  a  child's. 

"  Will  you !  "  she  cried,  delighted ;  and,  running 


230  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

into  the  bedroom,  she  called  back :  "  I  will  show  you 
the  costume  for  the  second  act  first.  You  will  fall 
down  and  adore  me.  Keep  me  talking,  Teddy  —  I 
shall  go  into  hysterics.  Oh,  I  am  so  frightened !  " 

She  tried  her  voice,  singing  a  scale,  inquiring  anx 
iously,  her  head  peering  around  the  door :  "  That 
sounds  bad,  beinf" 

"  Marvelous ! "  said  Beecher,  who  did  not  know 
one  note  from  another. 

Reassured,  she  entered  radiantly,  took  two  or 
three  steps  forward,  and,  lifting  the  castanets  on  her 
fingers,  flung  herself  into  the  pose  of  Carmen  exult 
ing  in  the  return  of  her  lover. 

"  Carmen,  Teddy,"  she  cried,  with  a  toss  of  her 
head.  "  Carmen  is  different  from  all  other  roles. 
To  succeed  in  Carmen,  one  must  be  a  Carmen  one's 
self  —  enfant  de  la  Boh erne.  You  like  this?  Wait 
--wait  a  moment." 

Back  in  her  bedroom,  she  continued,  pausing  from 
time  to  time  to  shriek  at  her  maid :  "  Teddy,  you  do 
me  so  much  good  —  you  take  my  mind  off.  .  .  . 
Victorine,  tu  m'assassine!  .  .  .  Teddy,  they 
will  think  me  beautiful,  beinf  You  will  stay  —  you 
will  talk  to  me  until  I  go  ?  " 

"  Wish  I  could,"  said  Beecher,  to  whom  this  peep 
behind  the  scenes  was  novel.  "  The  deuce  is,  I'm 
dining  with  Mrs.  Fontaine  —  going  in  her  box." 

"  And  Charters  —  she  is  going  too  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  —  you  don't  know  ?  "  she  said,  emerging, 
a  shawl  of  shaded  luminous  greens  flung  over  the 
shoulder  of  a  russet  taffeta.  She  seized  him  by  the 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

chin  with  the  savage  gesture  of  the  Bohemian.  "  You 
lie  to  me !  You  love  her  —  and  you  know !  "  Then, 
slipping  on  the  sofa  beside  him,  half  playful,  half 
feline,  she  pleaded:  "  Tell  me,  Teddy  —  tell  me  just 
to  distract  me.  Be  a  nice  boy  —  you  see  how  nerv 
ous  I  am  —  please !  " 

Beecher  did  not  resist.  He  recounted  lightly, 
making  little  of  the  few  passages  at  arms  between 
him  and  Nan  Charters,  ending  with  a  droll  repro 
duction  of  his  laughing  exit,  cured  and  disillusion 
ized. 

"  Ah,  my  poor  Teddy !  "  said  Emma  Fornez,  shak 
ing  her  head.  "  Everything  you  say  proves  what  I 
feared." 

"What?" 

"  You  are  in  love;  you  are  beyond  hope! " 

"  What,  after  I've  told  you  this?  " 

"  Exactly.  She  asked  you  to  telephone.  You 
didn't.  Why?  Because  you  are  in  love  —  you  are 
afraid." 

"  Emma,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said,  with 
an  excusing  shrug. 

"Aha!" 

"  I  was  attracted  — " 

"Good!" 

"  But  I  saw  what  an  idiot  I  would  be." 

"  Very  good !  " 

"  I  am  completely  cured,  and  if  I  didn't  telephone, 
it  is  — '' 

"  Because  you  are  in  love,"  said  Emma  promptly. 

"Nonsense!" 

"  You  will  see  her  tomorrow ;  if  not,  day  after 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

tomorrow.  And  the  longer  you  stay  away,  the 
worse  for  you." 

The  arrival  of  Spinetti,  the  conductor,  to  run 
over  a  last  few  points,  broke  in  upon  this  interesting 
discussion.  Beecher  departed,  after  a  promise  to 
come  behind  after  the  second  act  with  a  budget  of 
news.  He  returned  to  his  rooms,  undisturbed  by  the 
charges  of  Emma  Fornez. 

"  I  haven't  thought  of  her  the  whole  day,"  he  said 
contentedly.  "  If  I  didn't  telephone,  it's  because  — 
well,  because  —  what's  the  use  ?  I  have  other  things 
more  interesting  to  do." 

In  his  apartment  he  found  McKenna  waiting  for 
him,  in  company  with  Gunther,  who  was  already 
dressed  for  dinner  at  Mrs.  Fontaine's. 

"  Hello,  McKenna,"  he  said,  surprised.  "  What's 
up?  " 

The  two  had  been  discussing  energetically,  and 
the  little  difficult  hesitation  told  him  that  he  himself 
had  been  the  subject  of  conversation. 

"  I'm  called  off  on  an  important  case,"  said  Mc 
Kenna.  "  Thought  I'd  better  have  an  understand 
ing  with  you  first." 

"What  understanding?"  he  said.  His  eye  was 
attracted  by  the  heaped-up  mail  on  a  side  table,  and 
he  moved  over  to  examine  it,  with  a  curiosity,  ut 
terly  illogical,  to  see  if  Miss  Charters  had  written 
him. 

"  Mr.  Beecher,  I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you," 
said  McKenna  quickly. 

"What's  that?" 

"  Don't  open  any  letters  or  answer  the  telephone 
until  I  am  gone." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  233 

"  Why,  yes ;  but  — "  He  cut  off  with  a  look  of 
interrogation. 

"  Pump  it  into  him,  Mac,"  said  Gunther,  throw 
ing  himself  back  and  puffing  forth  great  volumes  of 
smoke. 

"  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  McKenna,  smil 
ing,  "  Mrs.  Kildair  played  us  both  to  the  queen's 
fashion." 

"  What  was  I  to  do  ? "  said  Beecher  warmly. 
"  Whom  does  the  ring  belong  to,  anyway  ?  Is  there 
any  reason  I  should  do  what  she  doesn't  want  me 
to?" 

"  No  —  no,"  said  McKenna  slowly. 

"  Could  I  have  refused  a  direct  demand  from  her 
like  that?  And  what  reason  could  I  give  if  I  had?  " 

"  You  couldn't,"  said  McKenna,  eying  the  end  of 
his  cigar.  "  She  did  the  job  neatly.  I  admire  that 
woman  —  don't  know  when  I've  met  one  of  that  sex 
who's  caught  my  fancy  so." 

"  I  suppose  you're  sick  of  the  case  and  want  to  get 
out,"  said  Beecher,  believing  he  had  divined  the  er 
rand.  "  Don't  know  as  I  blame  you." 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  quit,"  said  McKenna  slowly, 
while  Gunther  smiled  to  himself.  "  I  should  say, 
rather,  there  are  things  in  this  case  that  make  me 
particularly  interested  —  interested  for  my  own  curi 
osity  to  go  a  little  deeper.  Only,  I  want  to  be  sure 
we  understand  things  the  same  way.  You  don't  un 
derstand  from  anything  Mrs.  Kildair  said,  do  you, 
that  I  am  prevented  from  going  on  working  on  my 
own  hook  ?  " 

"  Why,  no ;  of  course  not,"  said  Beecher,  reflect 
ing.  "  I  understand  two  things :  one,  that  Mrs.  Kil- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

dair  wishes  to  keep  in  confidence  what  she  said  to 
you,  which  I  should  say  was  the  explanation  of  cer 
tain  facts  connected  with  her  having  the  ring." 

"  Second  ?  "  said  McKenna. 

"  Second,  that  she  believes  the  ring  will  be  re 
turned,  and  until  she  is  sure  it  is  she  doesn't  wish  to 
give  us  certain  suspicions  or  knowledge  that  she  has." 

"First  rate  —  just  right,"  said  McKenna,  rising 
quickly,  showing  satisfaction  in  the  instant  alertness 
of  his  movements.  "  That's  what  I  understand ;  we 
understand  each  other."  As  he  spoke,  the  telephone 
rang.  He  made  a  quick  gesture  of  opposition  as 
Beecher  started,  saying :  "  Not  now,  sir ;  I'd  rather 
you  wouldn't  answer  —  not  just  now." 

Beecher  looked  at  Gunther,  who  nodded  and  said : 

"  McKenna's  got  a  good  reason.  You'll  under 
stand  later." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Beecher,  I've  just  one  thing  to  say 
before  I  go,"  said  McKenna,  while  the  insistent  bell 
continued  its  querulous  summons.  "  I'd  prefer  you 
wouldn't  mention  to  any  one  that  you  saw  me.  At 
any  rate,  as  Mrs.  Kildair  evidently  isn't  anxious  for 
quick  results,  there's  nothing  to  be  done  now.  Per 
haps  by  tomorrow  there  may  be  a  different  turn  to 
the  case." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Beecher.  "Why 
don't  you  tell  me  what  you  know  ?  " 

"  You  forget,  Mr.  Beecher ;  you  yourself  have 
stopped  me  there,"  said  McKenna,  with  a  slightly 
malicious  smile.  "  However,  there's  going  to  be  a 
little  meeting  tonight  that  may  have  a  whole  lot  to 
do  with  the  fortunes  of  a  good  many  people ;  and 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  235 

when  it's  over  it  may,  or  may  not,  throw  a  new  light 
on  this  case." 

"  They're  going  to  put  Slade  through  the  same 
initiation  they  gave  Majendie,"  said  Gunther,  at  a 
look  from  Beecher.  "  There's  a  meeting  of  the  big 
fellows  at  the  governor's  tonight  —  a  sort  of  sheep- 
shearing —  though  Slade's  not  much  of  a  lamb." 

"  And  his  wool  grows  close  to  the  hide,"  said  Mc- 
Kenna,  with  one  of  his  rare  laughs.  "  However, 
I  can  tell  you  this  much :  whatever  happens  I  don't 
believe  there'll  be  any  exit  by  the  bullet  route  —  not 
if  I  know  John  G.  Slade.  Now,  sir,  I've  got  to  dis 
appear  for  a  while  on  my  own  troubles." 

"  Where  can  I  get  you  ?  "  asked  Beecher. 

"  You  can't  get  me,"  said  McKenna,  with  one  of 
his  sudden  contractions  of  the  eyelids.  "  That's  the 
whole  point  —  not  till  I  get  you.  I'm  off,  and  you 
don't  know  where,"  he  added,  offering  his  hand. 
"  Maybe  two  days ;  maybe  a  week." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Beecher,  with  a  puz 
zled  expression. 

"  I  do/'  said  Gunther,  pulling  his  sleeve. 

"  Now,  there  are  two  little  points  may  interest 
you  gentlemen  as  expert  deducers,"  said  McKenna, 
with  his  hat  on  his  head.  "  One  is,  I've  found  out 
who  those  detectives  were  that  night  —  they're 
crooks.  Second  —  and  don't  forget  this  —  I  share 
Mrs.  Kildair's  opinion  that  the  ring  is  going  to  be 
returned." 

"  Then  you  know  who  took  it ! "  exclaimed 
Beecher,  while  Gunther  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  know  a  single  thing,"  said  McKenna, 


236  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  but  I'm  getting  to  the  suspicious  stage.     So  long.*' 

The  telephone  had  stopped.  Beecher,  left  open- 
mouthed  by  the  exit  of  McKenna,  turned  to  Gun- 
ther,  who  had  resumed  his  easy  lounge. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  going  on,  Bruce  ?  What's 
all  this  mystery  ?  " 

"  Look  over  your  mail,"  said  Gunther  irrelevantly. 

Beecher  obeyed  the  suggestion.  At  the  end  of  a 
moment  he  exclaimed : 

"  Hello !  Why,  here's  a  note  from  Mrs.  Kildair 
—  sent  by  messenger,  evidently." 

"  Read  it." 

Beecher  glanced  at  it  hurriedly. 

DEAR  TEDDY: 

Have  been  trying  all  day  to  get  hold  of  McKenna,  but 
they  tell  me  at  his  office  he's  out  of  town.  I  want  to  see 
him  very  much.  If  you  know  where  he  is,  please  have  him 
call  me  up.  Shall  see  you  at  Mrs.  Fontaine's  tonight. 

RITA. 

P.  S.    Please  find  McKenna  if  you  possibly  can. 

"  By  Jove  —  McKenna!"  he  exclaimed,  and  has 
tened  toward  the  door,  only  to  be  stopped  by  Gun 
ther. 

"Ted,  you  blockhead,  what  are  you  doing?" 

"  Going  after  McKenna." 

"  Just  what  he  doesn't  want." 

Beecher  stopped  short,  suddenly  comprehending. 

"  That's  it,  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  returning.  "  He  wants 
to  keep  clear  of  Mrs.  Kildair's,  then?  " 

"You  see,"  said  Gunther,  "it  is  not  often  that 
McKenna  gets  double-crossed.  When  he  does,  he 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  237 

doesn't  particularly  relish  it.  Mrs.  Kildair  may  be 
perfectly  right  in  bottling  up  the  whole  affair;  but, 
after  what  happened  yesterday,  Mac  isn't  going  to 
stop  until  he  gets  to  the  bottom." 

"  But  why  disappear?  " 

"  Because,  you  little  white  fluffy  toy  donkey,  the 
last  thing  in  the  world  Mrs.  Kildair  wants  is  to  have 
him  do  anything  at  all,  and,  as  you  are  putty  in  the 
hands  of  any  pretty  woman,  he  doesn't  intend  to 
have  you  call  him  off." 

"  I'll  see  Mrs.  Kildair  at  Louise's.  What  am  I 
to  say?" 

Gunther  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Wonder  if  she's  really  playing  to  be  Mrs.  Slade," 
he  said  grimly.  "  If  she  is,  she'll  give  that  up  after 
tonight." 

"  What's  going  to  happen  to  him,  Bruce?  " 

"  He'll  come  out  with  so  little  left  that  a  Commit 
tee  on  Virtue  will  arrest  him  for  indecent  exposure 
—  and  the  country  will  be  saved." 

Beecher  stopped  before  the  telephone. 

"  Wonder  if  Mrs.  Kildair  really  was  on  the 
'phone  ? "  he  said  meditatively.  The  thought  re 
called  Miss  Charters,  but  without  disturbing  his 
equanimity. 

"  Bruce,"  he  said  joyfully,  rushing  to  dress,  "  Til- 
ton's  crazy  to  have  me  go  to  Africa  with  him.  By 
Jove,  I've  half  made  up  my  mind !  Give  me  a  man's 
life;  a  life  with  men,  out  in  the  open  —  dogs  and 
horses,  and  nothing  but  a  few  lions  and  fat  elephants 
to  bother  you !  " 

When  they  arrived  at  Mrs.  Fontaine's,  they  found, 


238  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

to  their  surprise,  that  Mrs.  Kildair  had  been  delayed 
by  an  automobile  breaking  down,  and  would  only 
join  them  later  at  the  opera. 

Not  one  of  them  had  the  faintest  suspicion,  when 
later  Mrs.  Kildair  calmly  entered  the  box,  that  she 
had  passed  through  two  hours  of  supreme  agitation 
that  had  left  her  torn  between  hope  and  dread  —  her 
whole  future  staked  on  one  turn.  Slade,  face  to 
face  with  the  crisis  that  would  determine  whether 
he  would  survive  as  one  of  the  figures  of  the  financial 
world,  or  return  staggering  into  the  oblivion  of  the 
commonplace,  had  gone  to  see  her  in  the  afternoon. 

Confronted,  too,  by  the  imminent  outcome  of  a 
gamble  that  had  absorbed  all  her  ambitions  and  her 
hopes,  she  had  recklessly  thrown  aside  all  the  re 
straints  which  she  had  interposed  between  them; 
and  by  an  impulse  of  daring  which  makes  such 
women  irresistible  to  men,  having  invented  an  excuse 
for  Mrs.  Fontaine,  had  kept  him  to  dinner,  trusting 
to  his  protection,  insisting  on  his  confidence. 

Afterward  she  had  driven  him  to  the  gray,  prison- 
like  structure  which  Gunther  called  a  home,  and  seen 
him,  defiant  with  a  defiance  she  had  breathed  into  him, 
with  the  scorn  of  the  gambler  who  comes  at  length  to 
the  ultimate  stake  walk  up  the  steps  past  the  group  of 
newspaper  men,  who,  suddenly  ceasing  their  chatter, 
huddled  together  and  watched  him  with  a  unanimous 
craning  of  their  heads. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MRS.  CRAIG  FONTAINE'S  box  was  in  the 
lower  grand  tier  in  that  favored  circle  which, 
in  the  present  struggle  for  social  supremacy,  is  the 
ultimate  battlefield.  Her  entrance  was  one  of  the 
six  important  arrivals  of  the  night  which  affected 
the  immense  audience  with  a  curiosity  only  less  in 
tense  than  the  entrance  of  the  prima  donna.  Mrs. 
Fontaine,  approaching  the  curtain  that  shut  out  the 
swimming  vision  of  faces,  took  a  preparatory  glance, 
and  as  the  row  of  boxes  still  showed  a  profusion  of 
gaps,  she  delayed  their  entrance  on  the  pretext  of 
waiting  for  Mrs.  Kildair.  Besides  Gunther  and 
Beecher,  there  were  in  the  party  Lady  Fitzhugh 
Mowbray,  a  young  woman  of  the  striking  English 
blonde  type,  and  the  Duke  de  Taleza-Corti,  of  the 
royal  house  of  Italy,  a  cosmopolite,  dry,  frail  in 
body,  affecting  the  English  monocle,  with  a  perpetual 
introspective  smile  on  his  keen  lips. 

The  absence  of  Mrs.  Kildair  had  left  Mrs.  Fon 
taine  in  very  bad  humor.  Not  only  did  she  consider 
an  invitation  to  her  box  as  a  sort  of  royal  command 
that  should  take  precedence  over  all  calamities,  and 
render  accidents  impossible,  but  she  felt  that  she 
would  miss  the  effect  which  her  well-balanced  party 
had  promised.  Fortunately,  at  that  moment  the  door 
opened  and  Mrs.  Kildair  entered. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Fontaine,"  she  said  immediately, 

239 


240  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

in  a  voice  that  could  not  be  heard  by  the  rest,  "  the 
explanation  I  sent  you  is  not  true.  It  was  not  a 
question  of  a  break-down.  There  are  crises  in  our 
lives  that  cannot  be  put  off.  I  can  tell  you  no  more 
than  this,  but  I  know  you  will  understand  that  noth 
ing  except  a  matter  of  supreme  importance  would 
ever  make  me  miss  an  invitation  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Fontaine  looked  at  her  and,  seeing  beyond  the 
surface  calm  the  fires  of  a  profound  agitation,  was 
pleased  that  Mrs.  Kildair  had  not  sought  an  easy 
excuse,  but  had  thrown  herself  on  her  woman's  gen 
erosity.  Also  she  perceived  that  she  was  strikingly 
dressed  in  a  robe  of  that  luminous,  elusive  green  that 
breaks  forth  in  the  flickering  driftwood,  subdued 
and  given  distance  by  a  network  of  black  lace.  It 
was  exactly  the  contrast  that  she  would  have  chosen 
as  a  foil  to  her  own  costume.  She  smiled,  pressed 
her  guest's  hand  sympathetically  and  signaled  to 
Gunther,  who  removed  her  wrap. 

Mrs.  Kildair  murmured  an  involuntary  tribute 
while  the  Duke  de  Taleza-Corti,  with  the  over-frank 
admiration  which  the  Latin  permits,  said  point 
blank : 

"  If  I  am  to  sit  behind  you,  Madame,  you  must 
bandage  my  eyes." 

Mrs.  Fontaine  had  chosen  the  one  color  which, 
above  all  others,  seemed  to  have  been  created  to 
frame  her  dark  imperious  beauty  —  a  warm  purple, 
the  tone  of  autumn  itself,  which  gave  to  her  shoulders 
and  throat  the  softness  of  ivory.  About  her  neck 
was  a  double  string  of  pearls  which  were  worth  ten 
times  the  receipts  of  the  house. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Let's  go  in,"  she  said,  glancing  at  Gunther 
with  a  hope  that  she  might  find  his  eyes  a  little 
troubled.  She  signed  to  him  to  take  the  seat  behind 
hers,  placing  Beecher  back  of  Mrs.  Kildair,  and 
while  the  rest  of  her  party  immediately  swept  the 
house  with  their  opera-glasses,  she  remained  quiet, 
conscious  of  the  sudden  focus,  unwilling  to  show  her 
self  curious  of  other  women. 

"  Look,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair  to  Beecher  in  a  low 
aside;  "Mrs.  Bloodgood  is  in  her  box.  What 
daring!"  she  added  after  a  moment's  examination. 
"  She  has  dressed  herself  in  black." 

Beecher,  following  her  directions,  beheld  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  without  a  single  jewel  or  a  relieving  touch 
of  color,  sitting  proudly,  looking  fixedly  at  the  stage, 
disdainful  of  the  stir  and  gossip  which  her  dramatic 
appearance  occasioned.  Behind  in  the  crowded  box 
Mr.  Bloodgood  was  standing,  smiling  and  contented, 
showing  himself  with  a  malicious  enjoyment. 

"  How  can  she  do  it?  "  he  said. 

"  After  the  first  act,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  with  a 
sudden  impulse  of  generosity,  "  go  and  see  her. 
Take  Mr.  Gunther.  It  will  give  her  strength." 

"  It  is  decidedly  brilliant,"  said  Lady  Mowbray. 
"  The  parterre  is  much  more  effective  than  Covent 
Garden." 

"  There  should  be  a  guide  to  tell  us  all  the  histories 
of  these  boxes,"  said  Taleza-Corti,  with  his  keen 
perception  of  values.  "  The  opera  is  the  record  of 
society.  The  history  of  America  for  the  next  twenty 
years  will  be  written  here  by  those  who  descend  from 
the  galleries  into  the  orchestra,  and  those  who  force 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

their  way  from  the  orchestra  into  the  boxes.  I  like 
to  think  of  your  millionaires  who  might  have  begun 
up  there  under  the  roof.  Fonda,  our  great  novelist, 
says  that  the  opera  is  the  city  reduced  to  the  terms 
of  the  village.  It  always  impresses  me.  Magnifi 
cent!" 

No  one  listened  to  him.  The  women  nodded  from 
time  to  time  as  their  glasses  encountered  those  of 
acquaintances;  Beecher,  troubled  at  a  figure  which 
he  had  half  perceived  in  the  orchestra  and  which  he 
sought  to  distinguish,  fancied  a  resemblance  to  Nan 
Charters;  Gunther,  bored  by  a  spectacle  which  had 
no  novelty  for  him,  watched  Mrs.  Kildair,  noting 
the  nervous  hands  and  the  occasional  quickly  taken 
breaths,  asking  himself  what  had  been  the  real  cause 
of  her  absence,  half  divining  in  a  confused  way  the 
truth. 

Mrs.  Fontaine  was  languidly  curious  of  those  who 
had  a  right  to  her  interest.  She  was  in  her  element 
—  jealous  of  this  multitude  as  an  actress,  pleased 
at  the  fine  effect  she  had  produced.  And  in  her  tri 
umph  she  was  recalled  to  the  one  thing  she  desired 
to  complete  her  ambition,  to  give  her  that  command 
of  this  assemblage  which  she  was  forced  to  ac 
knowledge  to  another.  Her  glance  went  to  the  box 
in  the  middle  of  the  horseshoe,  as  it  did  covetously 
each  night. 

"  Your  father  isn't  here  tonight/'  she  said  to 
Bruce  Gunther  with  a  little  surprise. 

"  No.  There  is  some  big  pow-wow  on,"  he 
answered. 

Mrs.  Kildair  took  up  her  glasses  suddenly,  turning 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

them  haphazard.  The  remark  revived  in  her  all  the 
agitation  of  the  afternoon. 

"  I  shall  never  be  able  to  sit  through  this,"  she  said 
to  herself,  leaning  forward.  "  If  I  only  knew  — " 

Mrs.  Fontaine,  could  she  have  known  the  thoughts 
that  were  galloping  through  the  brain  of  her  guest, 
would  have  been  astounded  at  their  similarity.  Mrs. 
Kildair,  too,  had  her  ambitions,  ambitions  as  passion 
ately  held  and  nourished  on  one  hope.  The  inter 
view  that  afternoon  with  Slade,  an  interview  in 
which  for  the  first  time  she  had  made  him  feel  the 
need  of  her,  had  all  at  once  brought  the  prize  within 
her  grasp.  If  he  could  but  emerge  from  this  one 
supreme  danger,  she  said  to  herself  that  she  had  at 
last  the  opportunity  to  rate  herself  here  among  the 
leaders  of  this  society  which  she  coveted,  had  always 
coveted  and  would  never  cease  to  covet 

"  Give  me  Slade  and  twenty  millions  even/'  she 
said  to  herself  with  a  great  intaking  of  breath,  "  and 
I  can  do  anything.  I  will  dominate  this  in  five 
years."  But  the  more  violently  burned  the  fire  of 
her  desire,  the  more  weak  and  faltering  was  her 
hope.  "  Ah,  will  he  win  out  —  can  he  —  how  is  it 
possible?  "  she  said  bitterly.  "  Oh,  what  a  gamble  it 
all  is  —  and  I  must  sit  here  —  continue  to  sit  here 
like  a  stone  —  while  in  an  hour  it  may  all  be  de 
cided!" 

"'  You've  seen  Fornez  in  Carmen?"  said  Taleza- 
Corti  to  Gunther.  "  Very  fine." 

"  First  appearance  here,"  said  Gunther  briefly. 
He  touched  Beecher  on  the  arm.  "  Friends  of  yours 
over  there,  Ted." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Who?" 

"  The  Cheevers  —  little  to  your  right  —  row 
above.  Hello,"  he  added  suddenly.  "  See  who's 
with  them?" 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Beecher,  who  did  not  recognize  the 
rest  of  the  party. 

Gunther  placed  his  finger  on  his  lips,  with  a  warn 
ing  glance  at  Mrs.  Kildair,  and  then,  bending  for 
ward,  said: 

"  I  say,  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  is  that  tall,  rather 
black  chap  in  the  box  with  the  Stanley  Cheevers? 
He's  looking  this  way  now." 

Mrs.   Kildair  raised  her  glasses. 

"  Mr.  Mapleson,"  she  said  directly. 

"  He's  the  head  of  Sontag  &  Company,  the  jewel 
ers,  isn't  he?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so." 

"  Queer  looking  chap  —  ever  know  him  ?  " 

"Yes.     Why?" 

She  turned,  looking  at  the  questioner  with  a  fixity 
that  told  him  she  was  not  entirely  ignorant  of  his 
real  interest. 

"  He  must  have  been  in  Paris  when  you  were," 
he  said  quickly.  "  I  hear  he  had  quite  a  career 
there." 

She  turned  away  with  indifference,  gazed  once 
more  through  her  glasses  and  said : 

"  Yes,  there  were  quite  a  number  of  stories  about 
his  rise.  He  is  a  man  with  a  genius  for  friend 
ships." 

"Rather  attentive  to  Mrs.  Cheever,  isn't  he?" 
persisted  Gunther. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  245 

"  I  didn't  know  it." 

Beecher  did  not  then  seize  the  drift  of  the  inquiry, 
still  absorbed  as  he  was  in  the  attempt  to  gain  a 
clearer  view  of  the  profile  in  the  orchestra  which 
reminded  him  of  Nan  Charters.  Lady  Mowbray 
continued  silent,  busy  as  a  true  Briton  in  the  search 
for  the  ridiculous  in  this  assemblage  which  at  first 
glance  had  impressed  her. 

All  at  once  the  lights  went  out  and  the  first  act 
was  on.  The  entrance  of  Emma  Fornez  was  eagerly 
awaited  as  a  new  sensation  to  an  audience  which 
yearly  must  be  served  with  the  novel  and  startling. 
It  had  been  rumored  that  her  impersonation  was 
even  a  bit  shocking,  and  the  house,  stirred  by  the  ex 
pectation,  waited  hopefully.  At  the  end  of  the  act 
opinions  were  divided:  the  galleries  applauded  fran 
tically,  moved  by  the  sure  magnetism  of  a  great  ar 
tist,  but  the  boxes  and  most  of  the  orchestra  waited 
undecided,  each  afraid  to  be  the  leader. 

"  But  I  don't  see  anything  shocking  at  all,"  said 
the  voice  of  a  young  woman  in  the  next  box,  a  note 
of  complaint  in  her  voice. 

"  Wait  —  it's  in  the  second  act,"  answered  the 
sarcastic  note  of  a  man. 

"  Ah,  the  love  scene,"  said  the  woman  mollified. 

The  two  young  men  rose,  giving  their  places  to 
arriving  visitors,  and  went  into  the  corridors  on  their 
rounds.  Beecher  was  thoughtful.  He  had  at  last 
assured  himself  that  he  had  not  been  mistaken  — 
Miss  Charters  was  present.  He  had  detected  her 
with  her  glasses  on  his  box,  but  he  had  not  succeeded 
in  seeing  who  was  her  companion. 


246  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Td  give  a  good  deal  to  know  how  well  Mrs. 
Cheever  knows  Mapleson,"  said  Gunther  eagerly. 

"  I  say,  what  do  you  mean  by  poking  me?  "  asked 
Beecher  suddenly. 

"Didn't  you  get  on?  Mapleson  is  the  head  of 
Sontag  &  Company;  Sontag  &  Company  sold  the 
ring  to  Slade.  Now  if  Mapleson  and  Mrs.  Cheever 
are  intimate  it's  possible  —  just  a  chance  —  Mrs. 
Cheever  may  have  known  the  facts.  See  ?  " 

Beecher  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It's  a  long  shot." 

"  But  a  chance.  I'll  pick  up  some  one  here  in  five 
minutes  who  can  tell  me." 

Beecher  entered  the  Bloodgood  box  and,  making 
his  way  to  the  front,  gave  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Blood- 
good.  Four  or  five  men,  impelled  by  curiosity,  were 
before  him,  mentally  registering  their  reports  to  add 
to  the  fund  of  gossip.  Airs.  Bloodgood,  glad  to  avail 
herself  of  the  opportunity,  had  turned  her  back  on 
the  audience  and  was  holding  her  head  against  these 
social  scouts,  who  discussed  Slade,  which  was  a  man 
ner  of  discussing  Majendie. 

She  welcomed  Beecher's  arrival  as  that  of  an  ally 
and  made  him  the  pretext  of  withdrawing  from  the 
general  conversation.  The  moment  he  looked  at  her, 
he  had  the  tact  to  perceive  that  any  display  of  sym 
pathy  would  be  an  offense.  There  was  no  trace  left 
of  the  weak  and  desperate  woman.  Instead,  he  was 
aware  of  an  immense  change  in  her,  a  transformation 
that  was  moral,  and  looking  into  her  eyes  he  could  not 
realize  that  he  had  ever  seen  them  weep. 

"  They'll  force  out  Slade,"  said  a  voice. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  247 

"  Where  are  you  tonight  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  In  Mrs.  Craig  Fontaine's  box,"  he  said. 

"Mrs.  Kildair  is  there,  isn't  she?" 

"  Yes."  He  hesitated,  but  did  not  deliver  her  mes 
sage.  The  woman  before  him  asked  compassion 
from  no  one.  In  the  commotion  at  his  side  he 
caught  a  phrase:  "  Wonder  if  Slade  will  kill  himself 
too?" 

"  Do  you  like  Fornez  ?  "  he  said  hastily,  and  de 
spite  himself  he  looked  into  her  eyes  to  see  what  ef 
fect  the  remark  had  made. 

"  Very  much,"  she  said  coldly,  a  little  staccato. 
And  then  calmly,  to  end  a  subject  that  was  disagree 
able  to  her,  she  turned  to  the  other.  "  Fornez  has 
made  a  success,  don't  you  think?" 

Beecher  left  presently,  oppressed  by  the  hardness 
that  he  felt  in  her. 

"  There's  a  woman  who  will  never  have  any  pity," 
he  thought  as  he  left.  Mr.  Bloodgood,  who  remem 
bered  him  with  a  malicious  smile,  shook  his  hand 
with  extra  cordiality. 

"  Did  you  give  my  message?  "  asked  Mrs.  Kildair 
as  he  took  his  place. 

"  It  was  wiser  not,"  he  said.  Then  all  at  once, 
struck  by  the  fatigue  in  her  face,  he  asked  anxiously : 
"  Are  you  very  tired  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very,"  she  said. 

In  this  box,  too,  nothing  had  been  spoken  of  ex 
cept  the  drama,  which  at  that  moment  was  centered 
about  John  G.  Slade.  As  nothing  could  possibly  be 
known,  every  one  arrived  with  a  fresh  rumor,  and 
the  burden  of  all  was  the  annihilation  of  the  West- 


248  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

erner.  The  sudden  darkness  came  to  her  as  a  relief. 
She  relaxed  wearily  in  her  chair  and  forced  her  mind 
to  forget  itself  in  the  sudden  access  of  gaiety  from  the 
stage. 

This  second  act  was  a  veritable  triumph  for  Emma 
Fornez.  In  the  scene  of  Don  Jose's  return  she  acted 
with  such  fine  and  natural  primitive  passion  that  all 
the  constricted  little  feminine  natures  in  the  audi 
ence  were  stirred  by  the  pulsing  exhibition  of  an  emo 
tion  they  had  carefully  choked  or  reduced  to  mathe 
matics,  and,  really  moved,  trembling  in  their  impris 
oned  bodies,  they  applauded  for  the  first  time.  Then 
suddenly  they  ceased  —  a  little  ashamed. 

In  descending  the  stairway  to  go  behind  the  stage, 
Beecher  perceived  Miss  Charters  in  the  distance  of 
the  shifting  crowd.  He  stopped,  by  a  movement  he 
did  not  analyze,  to  speak  to  a  purely  chance  acquaint 
ance,  hoping  that  she  would  perceive  him.  Then  he 
continued  to  the  dressing-room  of  the  prima  donna. 

Emma  Fornez  was  in  a  state  of  frenzied  delight. 

"  I  have  them,  Teddy  —  I  have  them !  Is  it  not 
so?"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands  together  as  a 
child.  She  flung  her  arms  about  him,  embracing 
him.  In  fact,  she  embraced  every  one  —  even  Vic- 
torine,  her  maid. 

"  The  house  is  wild  with  enthusiasm,"  he  said, 
laughing. 

"  Aha !  I  made  them  sit  up,  didn't  I  —  your  cold 
women !  It's  the  second  act,  Teddy  —  the  second  — 
you  get  them  there.  Bah!  They  don't  even  know 
what  I  did  to  them."  All  at  once  she  stopped,  seri 
ously  assuming  a  countenance  of  terror.  "  Oh,  but 


'Aha !     I    made    them    sit   up,    didn't   I — your    cold    women !' " 

— Page  248 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  249 

the  critics  —  what  will  the  monsters  say!  They 
never  like  it  when  the  audience  is  too  enthusiastic." 

"  I  saw  Macklin  applauding,  Madame,"  said  Spin- 
etti,  putting  his  head  into  the  room. 

"  Angel !  "  cried  Emma  Fornez,  and  she  embraced 
Spinetti.  Then,  knowing  in  herself  that  the  day  was 
won,  she  began  to  amuse  her  audience.  "  Do  you 
know  what  the  critics  will  write  ?  I'll  tell  you.  The 
audience  was  carried  off  its  feet  in  the  second  act. 
They  will  praise  the  first.  They  will  say  the  second 
was  obvious,  and  they  will  praise  the  third  act,  be 
cause  there  I  shall  do  a  little  trick  to  them  —  in  the 
card  scene.  I  shall  be  very  noble  —  very  tragic.  I 
will  make  a  little  picture  of  death  before  my  eyes  — 
with  all  his  bones  rattling  and  his  great  big  hollow 
eyes,  and  they  shall  see  it  on  my  face  —  so!  And 
I'll  look  very  steady  —  noble  —  profound  —  like  a 
queen.  See  ?  —  a  thing  which  Carmen  would  nevere, 
nevere  do,  for  she's  a  little  wretch  of  an  animal  that 
would  be  frightened  to  death.  But  you  will  see  they 
will  all  like  it  —  it's  their  moral  that  you  have  to 
serve  up  to  them." 

"  Third  act  —  third  act,"  came  the  running  call 
from  the  flies.  "  All  on  the  stage  for  the  third 
act." 

When  Beecher  entered  the  corridor,  Miss  Char 
ters  was  only  a  short  distance  away.  He  was  pre 
pared  for  Lorraine  as  a  companion,  but  he  felt  a 
sudden  anger  at  the  sight  of  Garraboy,  who  in  turn, 
suddenly  comprehending  the  aim  of  his  partner's 
maneuvers,  looked  anything  but  pleased. 

She  nodded  to  him,  holding  out  her  hand. 


250  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  She  is  wonderful,  Teddy,  wonderful.  Have 
you  seen  her  ?  Is  she  pleased  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  great,  great  artist,"  he  said  with  extra 
warmth.  "  She  is  pleased  as  a  child." 

The  two  men  had  nodded  with  that  impertinent 
jerk  of  the  head  which  in  society  conveys  the  effect 
of  a  bucket  of  water. 

"  Come  and  see  me  after  the  next  act,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  closely. 

"  If  I  can,"  he  said  hastily. 

He  went  up  the  steps  and  from  the  tail  of  his  eye 
saw  her  linger,  watching  him  as  he  went.  A  little 
contrition,  a  sudden  sympathy  came  to  him,  but  he 
repressed  it  angrily,  saying  to  himself  between  his 
teeth : 

"  Garraboy  —  how  can  she  stand  for  that !  " 

When  he  returned  to  the  box,  Mrs.  Kildair  and 
Mrs.  Fontaine  were  in  the  anteroom  in  low  con 
verse.  He  was  suddenly  struck  with  the  look  of 
age  in  Mrs.  Kildair's  face. 

"  But  I  assure  you  —  I  can  go  alone,"  she  was 
saying. 

"  I  would  not  allow  it,"  said  Mrs.  Fontaine  firmly. 
Then  turning  to  Beecher  she  said,  so  as  not  to  reach 
the  others :  "  Teddy,  as  soon  as  the  curtain  is  up, 
step  out.  Mrs.  Kildair  is  not  well.  You  will  take 
her  home.  I  have  ordered  the  automobile.  You 
can  get  back  for  the  last  act." 

Mrs.  Kildair  made  no  further  remonstrance  — 
she  was  at  the  end  of  her  tether. 

"  Sit  here,"  she  said  to  Beecher,  sitting  down  on 
the  couch.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  noticed." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"You're  ill!"  he  said  alarmed. 

"  Yes,  ill,"  she  said  mechanically. 

At  this  moment  the  house  became  still.  She  rose 
with  a  return  of  energy  and  signaled  him  that  she 
was  ready.  Five  minutes  later  they  were  in  the 
automobile  fleeing  uptown. 

A  moment  of  weakness  was  rare  in  her  life,  yet 
she  comprehended  it  without  seeking  to  delude  her 
self. 

"  At  twenty  I  should  not  even  have  trembled," 
she  said  to  herself,  sinking  back  into  the  cushioned 
seat  and  watching  the  lights  of  the  streets  flash  past 
the  window  with  a  comforting  emotion  of  speed. 
"  Now  it  is  different.  Every  life  has  one  supreme 
opportunity  —  this  is  mine.  I  know  it." 

Had  a  woman  been  at  her  side  instead  of  Beecher, 
she  would  have  given  her  confidence  in  the  terrible 
necessity  for  sharing  the  emotion  that  was  too  vital 
to  her.  As  it  was,  she  restrained  herself,  remain 
ing  silent  by  a  last  effort  of  her  will,  but  her  hand 
on  the  window-frame  began  a  nervous  syncopated 
beating,  imitating  the  click  of  the  fleeing  rails  which 
one  hears  on  a  railroad  train. 

"  You  are  feeling  better  ?  "  said  the  young  man 
in  a  troubled  voice. 

"  Open  the  window  —  just  for  a  moment,"  she  an 
swered. 

The  sudden  blast  of  cold  air,  damp  as  though 
laden  with  the  tears  of  the  city,  terrified  her  with 
its  suggestion  of  despair  and  defeat. 

"No,  no,  shut  it!"  she  said  hurriedly. 

He  obeyed  and  then  to  distract  her,  began: 


252  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  I  received  your  note,  Rita,  just  before  coming; 
McKenna—  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  interrupting  him,  "  that  is 
nothing.  Just  let  me  be  quiet  a  moment  —  get  hold 
of  myself." 

But  in  a  few  moments  she  was  forced  to  seek  the 
stimulus  of  the  air  again,  and  she  cried  hurriedly, 
not  concealing  her  agitation : 

"  Open,   open  quick !  " 

The  crisis  which  she  felt  approaching  with  every 
block  which  fell  behind  was  so  immense,  the  stake 
so  ardently  coveted,  so  weakly  feared,  that  she  had 
in  the  last  eternal  waiting  moments  a  sensation  of 
vertigo,  that  swept  down  and  seized  her  even  as  on 
the  football  field  before  the  blowing  of  the  whistle 
the  stanchest  player  feels  his  heart  lying  before  him 
on  the  ground.  She  opened  her  lips,  drinking  in 
the  chill,  revivifying  draught,  unaware  of  the  strange 
impression  her  disordered  countenance  in  the  em 
brasure  of  the  window  made  on  the  occasional 
passers-by. 

"  Better  first  in  a  village  than  second  in  Rome." 

She  found  herself  repeating  the  saying  mechan 
ically,  without  quite  understanding  how  it  had  so 
suddenly  leaped  into  her  mind.  Then,  as  the  au 
tomobile  turned  into  her  street,  and  she  felt  that  he 
was  there  waiting  as  he  had  promised,  successful 
or  ruined ;  that  now  in  ten  minutes  all  would  be  over, 
she  would  know;  all  at  once,  without  that  sense  of 
humor  which  deserts  us  in  great  stress,  she  began 
to  pray  confusedly  to  some  one  immense,  whom  she 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  253 

had  never  understood,  but  one  who  seemed  to  hold 
all  fates  in  the  balancing  of  his  fingers. 

"Are  you  better?  What  shall  I  do?  Shall  I 
come  up  with  you  ?  "  asked  Beecher,  totally  in  the 
dark. 

"  No,  no  —  wait,"  she  said  hurriedly,  as  the  ma 
chine  ground  to  a  stop.  She  did  not  rise  at  once, 
stiffening  in  her  seat,  grasping  the  arm  of  the  young 
man  until  he  winced  under  the  contraction  of  her 
fingers. 

"  Good! "  she  said  suddenly;  and  before  he  could 
prevent  her  she  was  out  on  the  sidewalk.  "  No,  no ; 
stay  in.  Thanks,  thanks  a  thousand  times.  I'll 
send  you  back." 

Before  he  could  protest,  she  shut  the  door  firmly 
and  nodded  to  the  chauffeur. 

The  elevator  boy  was  already  at  the  swinging 
glass  doors,  holding  them  open  for  her  entrance. 

"Mr.  Slade  here,  Jo?"  she  said  instantly. 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  upstairs." 

"How  long?" 

"  About  half  an  hour." 

She  entered  the  elevator  and  descended  at  the 
landing,  waiting  until  it  had  disappeared. 

"  Now  for  it !  "  she  said,  pressing  the  bell.  And 
by  a  last  display  of  her  will,  she  sent  through  her 
body  a  wave  of  cold  resolution  that  left  her  out 
wardly  impassive  with  a  little  touch  of  scorn  on  her 
lips. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  is  only  in  the  supreme  crisis  of  a  colossal  dis 
aster  that  a  nation,  which  fondly  believes  it 
elects  its  governing  bodies,  perceives  its  real  masters, 
and  then  in  the  alarm  and  confusion  of  its  appre 
hension,  it  does  not  recognize  what  it  is  shown. 
The  group  of  ten  men  who  were  assembled  at  Gun- 
ther's,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Slade,  either  in  them 
selves  or  through  the  influences  they  represented, 
could  bring  to  their  support  over  ten  billions  of 
capital.  If  it  were  possible  to  conceive  of  a  master 
spirit  who  could  unite  these  ten  men,  forgetting 
mutual  jealousy  and  distrust,  into  one  unanimous 
body  with  but  a  single  object,  in  five  years  these 
ten  men,  without  the  impediment  of  law,  could  own 
every  necessary  newspaper  and  magazine  in  the 
country,  operate  every  railroad,  and,  by  the  simple 
process  of  reinvesting  their  earnings  annually,  con 
trol  every  important  industry,  every  necessary  chain 
of  banks,  the  entire  food  supply  of  the  nation,  and, 
at  the  cost  of  twenty  million  dollars  every  four; 
years  and  by  remaining  unknown,  control  the  neces 
sary  number  of  candidates  in  both  political  parties 
in  matters  essential  to  their  financial  interests. 
That  such  a  coalition  will  remain  a  fantasy,  is  due 
to  two  factors :  the  human  nature  of  such  individuals 
and  the  human  nature  of  multitudes  which,  were 
they  successful,  would  find  the  corrective  in  mas- 

254 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  255 

sacre.  When  such  a  monetary  alliance  does  take 
place,  it  is  usually  from  the  necessity,  as  they  see 
it,  of  saving  the  country  by  the  simple  process  of 
enriching  themselves. 

When  Slade  arrived,  he  entered  by  the  separate 
entrance   to   Gunther's   personal  apartments,   which 
were  situated  in  a  lower  wing  of  the  monstrous  tur-  , 
reted  granite  structure  which  might  have  served  for  ' 
a  miniature  Bastile.     One  of  the  secretaries  was  at 
the  door  carefully  scrutinizing  all  arrivals.     The  mo 
ment  he  entered,  he  was  aware  that  his  fate  was  not 
the  only  one  that  was  under  discussion. 

The  wing  of  the  house  was  laid  out  in  the  form 
of  a  Maltese  cross,  with  a  square  anteroom  in  the 
center,  heavily  spread  with  silk  Persian  rugs,  and 
furnished  with  easy  divans  and  upholstered  chairs. 
Above  was  a  skylight,  now  transformed  into  a  vast 
reflector  for  the  burst  of  electric  lights. 

Four  entrances  of  equal  height  in  heavy  Florentine 
relief  gave  on  this  anteroom ;  from  Gunther's  private 
office,  from  the  library,  from  the  rooms  of  the 
private  secretaries,  and  from  the  outer  entrance  by 
which  Slade  advanced.  In  the  middle  of  the  ante 
room  Gunther  was  seated  at  a  small  card-table, 
studiously  engrossed  in  a  game  of  solitaire.  He 
was  a  medium-seized  man  who,  without  an  effect  of 
bulk,  conveyed  an  instant  impression  of  solidity,/ 
while  the  head,  remarkable  in  the  changed  physiog 
nomy  of  the  present  day,  had  the  falcon-like,  eerie 
quality,  characteristic  of  the  spreading  eyebrows  and 
deep-set  glance  of  the  American  before  the  Civil 
War.  Slow  in  movement,  slow  in  speech,  he  was 


256  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

likewise    slow   in   the   deliberation    with   which   his 
scrutiny  left  the  face  he  was  considering. 

At  the  vigorous  shock  of  Slade's  coming,  he  com 
pleted  a  row  of  carefully  laid  cards  and  lifted  his 
head. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Gunther?"  said  Slade, 
whose  eye  was  instantly  set  on  the  half-opened  doors 
leading  into  the  library,  from  which  sounds  of  alter 
cation  were  issuing. 

Slade's  arrival  seemed  to  surprise  Gunther,  who 
looked  at  his  watch  and  said,  without  rising: 

"  You're  ahead  of  time,  Mr.  Slade." 

"  Always  like  to  look  over  the  ground  when  there's 
a  battle,"  said  Slade,  who  in  fact  had  intentionally 
effected  a  surprise. 

"  Sit  down." 

He  motioned  to  the  secretary,  who,  moving  on 
springs,  brought  cigars  and  a  light. 

"  I'll  have  to  keep  you  waiting,  Mr.  Slade.  There 
is  a  conference  taking  place." 

Slade  glanced  from  the  library  to  the  closed  doors 
of  the  secretaries'  room. 

"  How  many  conferences  have  you?  " 

Gunther  turned  over  a  card,  studied  it  and  care- 
[  fully  laid  it  down.     It  was  his  manner  of  settling 
ja  question  he  did  not  wish  to  answer. 
|     Slade  was  not  offended  by  the  rebuff.     Holding 
"most  men  in  antagonism,  he  had  conceived  a  violent 
admiration  for  Gunther  and  as  he  was  the  man  above 
all  others  whom  he  wished  to  impress,  he  imitated 
his  taciturnity,  turning  his  imagination  on  the  prob 
able  groups  behind  the  three  double  doors,  which 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  257 

once  had  closed  on  a  famous  conspiracy  in  a  palace 
of  turbulent  medieval  Florence. 

Gunther  at  this  moment  was  probably  the  most 
powerful  personal  force  in  the  United  States,  and, 
what  was  more  extraordinary,  in  an  era  of  public 
antipathy  to  its  newly  created  magnates,  enjoyed 
universal  respect.  As  he  showed  himself  rarely, 
never  gave  interviews,  and  surrounded  himself  by 
choice  with  that  inciting  element  of  seclusion  which 
Napoleon  by  calculation  adopted  on  his  return  from 
Italy,  the  public  had  magnified  what  it  could  not 
perceive.  Even  as  royal  personages  of  distinctly 
bourgeois  caliber  have  been  impressed  on  history  by 
the  exigencies  of  the  kingly  tradition  as  models  of 
tact  and  statesmanship,  so  events  and  the  necessities 
of  the  public  imagination  had  combined  to  throw 
about  the  personality  of  Gunther  an  atmosphere  of 
grandiose  mystery.  Just  as  it  is  true  that  what  is 
a  virtue  in  one  man  is  a  defect  in  another,  the 
imagination  he  possessed  was  much  less  than  he  was 
credited  with  and  his  power  lay  in  his  ability  to 
control  it.  For  imagination,  which  is  the  genius  of 
progress,  in  a  banker  approaches  a  crime. 

His  strength  lay  in  being  that  inevitable  man  who 
results  as  the  balance  wheel  of  conflicting  interests. 
For  beyond  the  Stock  Exchange,  which  is  a  purely 
artificial  organization,  the  financial  powers  will,  al 
ways  create  what  amounts  to  a  saving  check,  around 
one  inevitable  personality,  whom  they  can  trust  and 
about  whom,  in  times  of  common  danger,  they  can 
rally  as  to  a  standard.  At  this  moment,  the  invested 
wealth  of  the  country,  frightened  at  the  cataclysm 


258  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

which  threatened  it,  had  thrown  its  resources  im 
plicitly  into  the  hands  of  this  one  man,  who  came 
forward  at  the  psychological  time  to  stop  the  panic, 
issuing  his  orders,  and  marshaling  his  forces  with 
a  response  of  instant  obedience. 

"What's  going  on  here?"  said  Slade  to  himself. 
"  And  what's  the  proposition  they're  reckoning  on 
squeezing  out  of  me  ?  I'd  like  to  know  what's  going 
on  behind  those  doors." 

As  though  in  response  to  his  wish  the  doors  of 
the  secretaries'  room  swung,  and  a  round,  rolling1 
little  man  of  fifty,  in  evening  dress,  came  hurriedly 
out,  holding  in  his  hand  a  slip  of  paper.  He  ap 
proached  the  stolid  player  with  precipitation,  and  yet, 
obeying  a  certain  instinct  of  deference,  which 
showed  itself  despite  his  disorder,  he  waited  until 
Gunther  had  completed  a  play  he  had  in  hand  be 
fore  blurting  out: 

"  Mr.  Gunther,  this  is  the  best  we  can  do." 

Gunther  took  the  slip  which  was  offered  to  him, 
glanced  at  it  and  returned  it  abruptly. 

"  Not  sufficient,"  he  said  and  took  up  his  pack  of 
cards. 

The  emissary,  crestfallen  and  desperate,  returned 
to  the  conference  and  at  the  opening  of  the  door 
the  sound  of  violent  discussion  momentarily  filled 
the  anteroom  as  a  sudden  blast  of  storm. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  Slade,  who  had  recognized  De- 
lancy  Gilbert,  of  the  firm  of  Gilbert,  Drake  &  Bauer- 
man,  brokers  and  promoters  of  mining  interests  in 
Mexico,  whose  failure  had  been  circulated  from  lip 
to  lip  in  the  last  forty-eight  hours.  "  I  see  that 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  259 

game.  Gilbert's  to  be  mulcted  of  his  Osaba  in 
terests  —  for  whom  though  ?  The  United  Mining, 
undoubtedly." 

Five  minutes  later  the  doors  of  the  library  opened 
in  turn  and  a  military  figure,  gray,  bent,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  came  slowly  out,  the  type  of  convenient 
figureheads  which  stronger  men  place  in  the  presi 
dencies  of  subsidiary  corporations.  He  likewise 
placed  a  sheet  of  paper  before  the  financier,  watch 
ing  him  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  his  white  finger 
working  nervously  in  the  grizzled  mustache. 

"  We've  agreed  on  this,  Mr.  Gunther,"  he  said 
desperately,  in  a  voice  shaken  by  suppressed  emotion. 
"  That's  as  far  as  we  can  go  —  and  that  means 
ruin!" 

Gunther  examined  the  sheet  with  slow  attention, 
nodding  favorably  twice;  but  at  a  third  column  he 
shook  his  head  and,  seizing  a  pencil,  jotted  down  a 
figure,  carefully  drawing  a  circle  around  it. 

"  That's  what  I  must  have,"  he  said  and  returned 
to  his  solitaire. 

The  emissary  hesitated,  seemed  about  to  argue, 
and  then,  with  a  hopeless  heave  of  his  shoulders,  re 
tired.  Gunther  frowned  but  the  frown  was  called 
forth  by  an  unfavorable  conjunction  of  the  cards. 
Not  once  had  he  seemed  to  notice  the  presence  of 
Slade.  In  the  same  position  the  promoter  could  not 
have  helped  stealing  a  glance  to  witness  the  effect. 
Slade  registered  the  observation,  mentally  admitting 
the  difference. 

"What  does  he  keep  me  here  for?"  he  thought, 
but  almost  immediately  answered  the  question: 


260  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Effect  on  the  others,  of  course.  Well,  let  them 
pull  their  own  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire." 

In  the  last  emissary  he  had  recognized  General 
Arthur  Roe  Paxton,  President  of  the  Mohican 
Trust,  exploiter  of  certain  Southern  oil  fields,  equally 
involved  in  the  Osaba  speculation.  The  knowledge 
of  the  operations  which  were  being  discussed  — 
which  he  readily  divined  were  the  surrender  of  im 
portant  holdings  —  prepared  him  for  the  demands 
he  must  expect  to  meet. 

At  this  moment  Gunther  swept  the  cards  together, 
glanced  at  his  watch,  and  pressed  an  electric  button. 

"  Mr.  Slade,"  he  said,  fixing  his  lantern-like  stare 
upon  the  promoter,  "  I  need  not  tell  you  that  we  are 
in  a  desperate  situation,  that  it  is  time  for  action  — 
decisive  and  immediate  action/' 

Slade  answered  by  an  impatient  jerking  of  his 
thumb,  and,  rising  as  he  beheld  the  secretary  return 
ing  from  the  private  office  where  he  had  been  sent 
by  a  look  of  Gunther's,  said: 

"  I  understand  perfectly.  If  the  gentlemen  whom 
I  am  to  meet  understand  the  situation  as  well  as  I 
do,  we  shall  have  no  trouble." 

Gunther  continued  to  study  him  thoughtfully, 
struck  by  the  confidence  of  his  attitude  where  des 
peration  might  have  been  expected.  He  seemed  for 
a  moment  about  to  say  something,  but  presently, 
giving  a  sign  to  his  secretary,  began  thoughtfully 
to  shuffle  the  cards. 

In  the  private  office  a  group  of  men  were  as 
sembled  about  the  long  table.  The  disposition  of 
Slade  had  been  but  an  incident  in  the  discussion 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  261 

which  had  been  called  to  decide  upon  the  methods 
to  be  pursued  in  coming  to  the  support  of  the  mar 
ket,  and  the  deliberation  had  left  its  marks  of  dis 
sension.  Slade,  on  entering,  rapidly  surveyed  the 
group,  perceived  its  discord,  and  divided  it  into  its 
component  interests. 

"  The  United  Mining  is  the  key,"  he  said,  on 
recognizing  Haggerty  and  Forscheim. 

The  group  was  like  a  trans-section  of  that  con 
flicting  America  which  seems  to  hold  the  destiny 
of  types.  Fontaine,  one  of  the  landed  proprietors 
of  the  city,  French  of  descent  and  aristocratic  by  the 
purifying  experience  of  two  generations,  was  next 
to  Haggerty,  a  cross-grained,  roughly  hewn  type  of 
the  indomitable  Irish  immigrant  of  the  seventies,  who 
had  risen  to  power  out  of  the  silver  mines  of  the 
eighties.  Leo  Marx,  olive  in  tint,  whispering  in 
manner,  thin-veined  and  handsome,  represented  the 
Jewish  aristocracy  that  had  ingrained  itself  in  the 
great  banking  houses  of  New  York ;  while  Forscheim, 
leading  spirit  of  five  brothers,  abrupt,  too  aggressive 
or  too  compliant,  cunning  and  unsatisfied,  was  the 
Hebrew  of  speculation,  the  creator  of  the  great  cor 
poration  known  as  the  United  Mining. 

Judge  Seton  B.  Barton,  representative  of  the  great 
oil  interests,  was  the  grim  Yankee,  unrelieved  by  his 
modifying  humor,  implacable  in  small  things  as  well 
as  great,  knowing  no  other  interest  in  life  except  the 
passion  of  acquiring. 

Kraus,  an  ungainly,  bulky  German-American,  had 
not  moved  from  the  half-retreating  position  he  had 
taken  on  seating  himself.  He  answered  with  a 


262  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

short  movement  of  his  head,  watching  every  one 
with  covetous,  suspicious  eyes  that  glimmered  weakly 
over  the  spectacles  which  had  slipped  to  the  bridge 
of  his  nose,  never  suggested  a  move,'  and  gave  his 
assent  the  last.  He  was  the  owner  of  a  fortune 
estimated  at  three  hundred  millions,  acquired  in 
lumber  holdings  over  a  territory  in  the  West  which 
would  have  made  another  Belgium. 

McBane,  one  of  the  strongest  figures  which  the 
rise  of  the  great  steel  industry  had  propelled  into 
the  public  light,  was  a  short,  fussy,  brisk  little  man, 
tenacious,  agile,  obstinate  in  opinion,  while  out 
wardly  smiling  with  a  general  air  of  delighted  sur 
prise  at  his  own  success.  He  was  the  present  ac 
tive  force  in  the  group  of  steel  magnates  whose  per 
sonal  fortunes  alone  amounted  to  over  three  quar 
ters  of  a  billion. 

Marcus  Stone,  president  of  the  greatest  banking 
force  of  the  country,  the  Columbus  National,  was  a 
middle-westerner,  sprung  from  the  hardy  soil  of 
Ohio,  virile,  deep-lunged,  direct  and  domineering, 
agent  of  colossal  enterprises,  rooted  in  conservatism 
and  regarding  his  vocation  as  an  almost  sacred  call. 
He  accounted  himself  a  poor  man;  he  was  worth 
only  three  millions. 

Rupert  V.  Steele,  head  of  the  legal  firm  of  Steele, 
Forshay  &  Benton,  corporation  lawyers,  was  the 
type  of  the  brilliant  Southerner,  adventuring  into 
the  Eldorado  of  New  York  as  the  Gascon  seeks 
Paris  or  the  Irishman  the  lure  of  London.  He 
might  almost  be  said  to  have  created  a  new  profes 
sion  —  the  lawyer-promoter  —  and  in  his  capacious. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  263 

fertile  head  had  been  evolved  the  schemes  of  law- 
avoiding  combinations  that  others  received  the  credit 
for.  In  public  he  was  one  of  the  stanchest  defenders 
of  the  Constitution  and  an  eloquent  exponent  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  judiciary. 

With  the  exception  of  Fontaine  and  Marx,  in 
this  varied  group  of  master-adventurers,  all  had  be 
gun  life  with  little  better  than  the  coats  on  their 
backs,  and  the  colossal  fortunes  which  roughly 
totaled  two  billions  had  been  amassed  in  virtually 
twenty  years.  This  is  a  point  which  future  econ 
omists  may  ponder  over  with  profit. 

At  Slade's  entrance  the  conversation  abruptly 
ceased  and  each  in  his  own  manner  studied  the  new 
arrival;  some  with  languid,  confident  curiosity;  For- 
scheim,  who  had  old  scores  to  settle,  with  a  glance  of 
unrestrained  satisfaction;  Steele,  leaning  a  little  for 
ward,  eager  in  his  inquisitorial  mind  to  divine  the 
attack,  already  convinced  that  such  a  personality  as 
Slade  would  not  come  without  an  aggressive  de 
fense. 

The  second  glance  reassured  Slade,  for  he  dis 
tinguished  in  the  group  the  conflicting  rivalries  and 
perceived  by  what  slender  checks  the  irrepressible 
jealousies  and  antagonisms  had  been  stilled. 

"  If  they've  got  together,"  he  said  to  himself  with 
a  sudden  delight  in  a  favorable  hazard,  "  it's  because 
they're  scared  to  the  ground  and  they  want  to  shut 
off  the  panic  first  and  trim  me  second.  Good! 
That's  what  I  wanted  to  be  sure  of." 

He  advanced  to  the  head  of  the  table,  swinging 
into  place  a  heavy  chair  which  he  swept  through  the 


264  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

air  as  though  it  had  been  paper,  and,  resolved  to 
acquire  the  advantage  of  initiative,  said: 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  let's  get  right  down  to  bus 
iness.  I've  come  to  get  five  millions." 

In  their  astonishment  several  pushed  back  their 
chairs  with  a  harsh,  grating  sound.  Forscheim 
laughed  aloud  insolently,  but  Steele,  sensitive  to  small 
things,  instantly  determined  to  employ  caution,  to 
be  the  last  to  crush  him  if  he  failed,  and  the  first 
to  support  him  if  he  had  indeed  the  power  to  survive. 

"  Mr.  Slade,"  said  Stone  in  his  blasting  manner, 
"  your  remark  is  in  bad  taste.  The  situation  you 
are  facing  is  an  exceedingly  serious  one  and  only  a 
prompt  compliance  on  your  part  with  the  measures 
we  have  determined  upon  to  avert  a  national 
calamity,  will  save  you  from  bankruptcy"  —  he 
stopped,  but  not  from  hesitation,  adding  with  a  sud 
den  flush  of  anger  —  "  and  worse." 

"  We  are  here,"  said  McBane,  in  tones  of  convic 
tion  which  produced  a  nodding  of  assenting  heads, 
"  in  the  performance  of  a  public  duty.  In  carrying 
that  out  we  do  not  intend  to  allow  the  fate  of  one 
man  or  a  dozen  to  interfere  with  the  steps  we  intend 
to  take  to  restore  public  confidence." 

"  And  I  repeat,"  said  Slade,  with  a  disdainful 
smile,  "  that  I  am  here  to  get  five  millions ;  and  you 
are  going  to  give  it  to  me." 

An  outburst  of  exclamations  followed  this  asser 
tion,  half  angry,  half  contemptuous,  above  which 
was  heard  Forscheim's  shrill  nasal  voice  saying: 

"  Dere  is  a  shtate  examiner,  Mr.  Shlade,  don't 
forget  dat." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  265 

"  My  books  are  kept  as  carefully  as  yours,  For- 
scheim,"  said  Slade,  with  a  sudden  angry  concentra 
tion  of  his  glance.  He  had  once  in  a  committee 
meeting  taken  Forscheim  by  the  throat  and  flung  him 
out  of  doors  —  a  fear  which  the  other  could  never 
forget.  Then  he  struck  the  table  a  resounding  blow 
with  his  fist,  stilling  the  clamor. 

"  Wait !  "  he  exclaimed,  rising  until  his  bulky  fig 
ure  towered  over  the  table.  "  Don't  let's  waste 
time.  Come  to  the  point.  You  think  I've  come 
here  to  receive  your  terms.  You  are  mistaken. 
I've  come  here  to  deliver  an  ultimatum  —  my  ultima 
tum." 

"  Do  you  realize,  sir,"  said  Judge  Barton  sternly, 
"  what  the  object  of  this  meeting  is?  We  are  here 
to  preserve  the  prosperity  of  this  country  for  the 
next  ten  years,  the  homes  and  savings  of  millions 
of  persons." 

"  No,  that  is  not  why  you  are  here,"  said  Slade 
contemptuously.  "  I'll  tell  you  why  you  are  here. 
You  are  here  to  protect  your  own  interests  —  first, 
last,  and  always!  Because  a  panic  to  you  means 
hundreds  of  millions,  the  end  of  development,  the 
closing  of  markets;  because  at  the  end  of  a  stock 
market  panic  is  an  industrial  panic,  and  the  end  of 
any  protracted  individual  depression  means  the 
colossal  flattening  out  of  your  billion  dollar  trusts. 
That's  why  there'll  never  be  another  '93  —  that's 
the  one  good  thing  in  the  present  situation  the  pub 
lic  doesn't  know.  There  isn't  going  to  be  a  '93  now, 
and  you  know  it  and  I  know  it." 

"  Suppose,  Mr.  Slade,  you  listen  to  our  stipula- 


266  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

tions  first,"  said  McBane,  but  in  a  more  conciliatory 
tone. 

Beyond  his  exposition  which  had  struck  all  with  its 
piercing  verity,  Slade  had  effected  over  them  an  al 
most  physical  mastery,  which  men  grudgingly  are 
forced  to  yield  to  masculine  strength. 

"  I  know  your  demands,"  said  Slade  instantly. 
"  Oh,  there  is  no  informer  present.  Nothing  diffi 
cult.  I  know  you  and  the  way  your  minds  work. 
You  have  three  conditions :  first,  I  am  to  resign 
the  presidency  of  the  Associated  Trust;  second, 
sell  my  stock  control  to  a  syndicate  you  have  organ 
ized,  which  will  stand  as  a  guarantee  to  the  public; 
third,  the  taking  over  of  all  my  holdings  in  the 
Osaba  territory  by  the  United  Mining  Company. 
Am  I  right?" 

He  did  not  need  to  wait  for  a  reply;  the  answer 
was  plain  upon  their  countenances. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I'm  going  to  finish  up,"  he 
said,  pursuing  his  advantage.  "  Remember  one 
thing:  I'm  not  a  Majendie.  I  fight  to  the  last 
breath  and  when  I'm  downed  I  carry  everything  I 
get  my  hands  on  down  with  me. 

"  Now,  let's  be  perfectly  plain.  I  know  where  I 
stand.  If  Majendie  and  the  Atlantic  Trust  hadn't 
gone  to  smash,  there  wouldn't  be  a  ghost  of  a  show 
for  me ;  you'd  squeeze  every  last  cent  I  had.  I  know 
it.  I  knew  it  then  when  I  knew  it  was  Majendie 
or  me.  But  you  see  Majendie's  dead  and  the  At 
lantic  Trust  —  three  hundred  and  eighty  millions  — 
has  closed  its  doors.  That  makes  all  the  difference 
in  the  world.  You  don't  want  to  trim  me  —  not 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  267 

primarily.  Forscheim  and  the  United  Mining  do  — 
that's  their  private  affair.  What  you  men  who  count 
want,  I  repeat,  is  to  stop  this  panic  —  to  get  me  out 
of  the  way  and  stop  the  panic  if  you  can;  if  you 
can't  get  me  out  of  the  way,  to  stop  the  panic  at 
once  —  now  —  within  twenty- four  hours!  Now, 
gentlemen,  I  defy  you  to  let  the  Associated  Trust 
close  its  doors  tomorrow  and  prevent,  with  all  your 
money,  the  wreck  of  every  industry  in  the  country." 

"  You  overestimate  the  importance  of  such  a  fail 
ure,"  said  Fontaine  slowly,  but  without  aggressive 
ness. 

Slade's    attack    had    made    a    profound    impres 


sion. 

M 


I  have  taken  particular  care  that  if  the  As 
sociated  fails,  it'll  be  the  biggest  smash  on  record," 
said  Slade,  ready  now  to  play  his  trump  card. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  demanded  Haggerty, 
startled,  while  the  others  waited  expectantly. 

"Just  that,"  said  Slade,  not  unwilling  that  they 
should  know  the  depth  of  his  game.  "  If  the  As 
sociated  fails,  sixty-seven  institutions  fail  from  here 
to  San  Francisco.  I  have  taken  care  of  that  in  the 
last  two  months." 

"  You  haf  ingreased  your  oplications  at  sooch  a 
time ! "  fairly  shrieked  Forscheim,  who  saw  his  vic 
tory  eluding  him. 

"  You  bet  I  did,"  said  Slade.  "  I  made  sure  that 
I  couldn't  be  allowed  to  fail." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  folded  sheet  and  handed 
it  to  Steele,  who  had  a  moment  before  finally  de 
termined  to  come  to  his  support. 


268  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  That's  what  failure  means.  Pass  it  around/' 
he  said. 

The  lawyer  elevated  his  eyebrows  in  astonish 
ment.  The  disclosure  of  how  Slade  by  negotiating 
loans  with  a  number  of  subsidiary  institutions 
throughout  the  country  had  made  them  united  in 
his  general  fate,  completed  the  dawning  recognition 
of  a  master  which  had  been  forming  in  his  mind. 

"  He  will  beat  them/'  he  thought,  passing  on  the 
paper.  "  He  will  go  far.  I  must  be  his  friend." 
Aloud  he  said  carefully:  "Of  course,  Mr.  Slade,  at 
the  bottom  the  affairs  of  the  Associated  Trust  are 
absolutely  solvent." 

"  Solvent  under  any  system  of  banking  in  the  world 
which  does  not  withhold  ready  money  on  proper 
guarantees,"  said  Slade,  looking  at  him  with  a  glance 
that  showed  the  lawyer  he  had  received  his  alliance; 
"  solvent  as  the  Atlantic  Trust  was,  is,  and  will  be 
proved  to  be.  You  gentlemen  know  that  as  well 
as  I  do." 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Slade,"  said  Steele,  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  aggressiveness  which  the  other  under 
stood  perfectly,  "  one  thing  must  be  understood  — 
the  present  speculative  operations  of  the  Trust  Com 
panies  can  not  go  on." 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  to  finish  up,"  said  Slade,  who 
seized  the  hint.  "  Here's  my  answer :  I  will  agree 
to  any  legislation,  in  fact  will  urge  it,  that  will  place 
the  Trust  Companies  on  the  basis  of  the  National 
Banks;  that  is,  on  the  same  conservative  basis  of 
loans  and  transactions.  That  is  right.  I  am  now 
convinced  that  it  is  for  the  best."  He  allowed  a 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  269 

slight  smile  to  show  and  continued :  "  I  will  resign 
as  President  of  the  Associated  Trust  three  months 
from  to-day.  That  I  had  already  determined  on. 
For  what  I  wish  to  do,  that  would  only  be  an  em 
barrassment.  You  will  lend  me  the  five  millions  I 
wish  and,  better  still,  tomorrow  morning  make  a 
simple  announcement  to  the  effect  that,  having  con 
sulted  on  the  affairs  of  the  Associated  Trust,  you 
have  found  no  reasons  for  apprehension,  and  an 
nounce  that  you  will  come  to  its  support.  Sign  it 
Fontaine,  Gunther,  McBane,  Marx  and  Stone,  and 
the  run  on  the  banks  will  end  in  twenty-four  hours. 
Tomorrow  morning  I  will  personally  assure  Mr. 
Steele,  by  an  examination  of  my  books,  that  affairs 
are  as  I  have  described.  After  this  examination  you 
can  place  five  millions  to  my  disposal  —  if  necessary. 
Believe  me,  this  is  a  much  better  way  to  end  the 
panic.  You  reassure  public  confidence  by  your 
guarantee.  The  other  way,  by  forcing  my  resigna 
tion,  you  create  an  impression  that  everything  is  rot 
ten.  Besides,  the  first  way  has  this  advantage  — 
it  is  the  only  way.  That's  my  word,  gentlemen;  if 
you  intend  to  stop  the  panic  you've  got  to  float  me !  " 

An  hour  later,  having  yielded  not  a  jot  of  his 
position,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  threats,  expostulations 
and  arguments,  he  rose  victorious. 

In  the  anteroom  he  went  up  to  Gunther,  who  was 
still  bowed  over  his  solitaire,  waiting  grimly  until 
his  word  had  been  carried  out. 

"  Mr.  Gunther/'  said  Slade,  stopping  at  the  table, 
"  we  have  come  to  an  understanding.  The  gentle 
men  in  the  other  room  were  agreeably  surprised  at 


270  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

my  exposition  of  the  affairs  of  the  Associated  Trust, 
They  are  going  to  lend  me  five  millions." 

"Indeed!"  said  Gunther  in  a  sort  of  grunt  but 
with  a  countenance  so  impassive  that  Slade  was 
moved  to  admiration. 

"  Gunther,"  he  said,  suddenly  carried  away  by  a 
feeling  of  prophetic  elation,  "  up  to  now  you've 
known  me  only  as  a  speculator.  Now  I'm  going 
to  become  a  conservative  force.  In  a  month  I'm 
coming  to  you  with  a  proposition.  You're  the  only 
man  I  would  ever  trust.  Good-night." 

His  automobile  was  waiting.  He  threw  himself 
riotously  into  it,  giving  the  address  of  Mrs.  Kildair's 
apartment;  and  as  he  felt  the  pleasant,  exhilarating 
sensation  which  the  speed  of  his  machine  conveyed 
to  him,  he  repeated,  feeling  suddenly  how  at  last 
he  had  emerged  from  the  perils  of  the  first  phase 
which  he  had  once  so  frankly  defined: 

"  Now,  I'll  be  conservative !  " 

Unlike  Gunther,  who  had  behind  him  the  tradi 
tions  of  generations  of  authority,  Slade  had  that 
typical  quality  so  perplexing  in  the  American  mil 
lionaire  of  sudden  fortune  —  the  childlike  eagerness 
for  admiration.  When  he  arrived  at  Mrs.  Kildair's 
and  found  that  she  was  still  absent,  he  was  consumed 
with  a  nervous  impatience.  He  seated  himself  at 
the  piano,  playing  over  clumsily  refrains  of  the  crude 
ranch  songs  which  came  to  him  as  an  echo  of  his 
earlier  struggling  days.  But  these  echoes  of  a  past 
conflict  seemed  only  to  whet  his  impatience.  He 
ended  with  a  crashing  discord  and  rose,  lighting 
another  cigar,  pacing  the  broad  space  of  the  studio 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

with  rapid,  restless  strides,  surprised  at  the  annoy 
ance  which  her  absence  brought  him. 

When  Mrs.  Kildair  entered,  let  in  by  Henriette, 
her  maid,  Slade  flung  aside  his  cigar  and  strode  im 
patiently  forward. 

One  glance  at  his  triumphant  face  told  her  what 
she  wanted  to  know.  She  made  a  quick  sign  to  him 
with  her  hand  and  turned  her  back,  disengaging  her 
opera  cloak  with  exaggerated  slowness,  drawing  a 
deep  breath.  Then  she  sent  Henriette  upstairs  to 
her  room  to  wait  until  she  called. 

"  Congratulations,"  she  said  calmly,  entering  the 
studio  and  extending  her  hand.  "  You  have  won !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  he  said,  taken  back  by  her 
composure. 

"  It  is  there  —  in  your  eyes,"  she  said,  passing 
her  fingers  so  close  to  them  that  he  seemed  to  feel 
their  soft  contact.  "  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Yes,  I've  beaten  them  —  Fontaine,  Barton, 
Forscheim,  Haggerty,  the  whole  lot  of  them,"  he 
cried  with  a  gleeful  laugh.  "  More,  I've  forced  my 
self  into  their  hidebound  circle.  You'll  see  —  in  a 
month  I'll  be  one  of  them." 

At  times  roguishly  delighted  as  a  boy,  at  others 
with  flashes  of  primitive  power,  he  related  to  the 
eager  woman  all  the  details  of  the  night  and  the 
desperate  stake  he  had  played  to  make  a  failure  so 
colossal  that  they  themselves  would  recoil  before  it. 

"And  if  Majendie  had  not  killed  himself?"  she 
said  breathlessly,  womanlike  perceiving  the  hazards 
of  fate. 

"  But  he  did !  "  he  cried  impatiently,  unwilling  to 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

admit  the  element  of  chance  in  the  destiny  he  had 
hewn  for  himself.  But  the  thought  sobered  him. 
He  looked  down  from  the  height  to  which  his  ambi 
tion  had  flung  him.  "  It's  true.  It  was  either  Maj- 
endie  or  me,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Shall  I  tell  you 
something?  That  night  we  were  here  I  knew  he 
was  lost  —  that  he  would  do  it.  Don't  ask  me  how 
I  knew ! "  Then,  shaking  off  the  memory  as  an 
evil  dream,  he  continued,  extending  his  arm  in  crude 
magnetic  gestures :  "  Well,  that's  over.  I  am  where 
I  want  to  be ;  the  rest  is  easy.  In  a  month  —  two 
months  —  they  will  see,  Forscheim  and  Haggerty, 
how  the  trap  they  laid  for  me  has  sprung  against 
them.  Tonight  will  be  worth  twenty  millions  to 


me." 


"  How  do  you  mean?"  she  said  eagerly,  but  she 
did  not  look  at  him.  Slade,  triumphant  in  his  brute 
power,  inspired  her  with  an  emotion  she  did  not 
dare  to  show  him  yet. 

"  Forscheim  and  Haggerty,  the  United  Mining," 
he  said,  forgetting  his  habitual  caution  in  the  now 
present  desire  to  dazzle  and  overcome  this  woman 
who  had  so  resisted  him,  who  had  become  so  sud 
denly  necessary  to  him,  "  have  laid  their  trap  to  get 
hold  of  the  Osaba  territory.  They've  stripped  Gil 
bert  and  old  General  Paxton  of  their  holdings,  and 
they  were  sure  they'd  strip  me.  The  Osaba  gold 
fields  will  be  one  day  worth  hundreds  of  millions  — 
another  Eldorado.  Well,  they'll  get  a  third  interest 
tonight.  I've  got  a  third,  and  Striker  and  Benz. 
Mexican  United,  who've  fought  them  tooth  and 
nail,  have  another  third.  Each  now  has  got  to  have 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  273 

what  I've  got  or  get  out.  I've  got  the  control  and 
when  I  sell  — "  He  ended  with  a  laugh.  "  I've 
licked  Forscheim  before  but  it  will  be  nothing  to 
this.  They  thought  they  had  me  down  and  they 
played  into  my  hands !  " 

Suddenly  he  changed  his  tone  as  the  memory  came 
to  him  of  Gunther  impassively  waiting  in  his  ante 
room. 

"  Now  they'll  see  what  I  can  do,"  he  said  savagely. 
"  Gunther's  the  only  real  man  among  them.  I  must 
have  Gunther.  With  him  I  can  do  what  I  want  — 
construct,  construct ! " 

She  rose,  stopping  him  as  he  most  wanted  to  con 
tinue. 

"  You  must  go  now,"  she  said  quietly ;  "  I've  al 
ready  done  what  I  shouldn't." 

He  stopped,  infuriated  at  this  check  to  his  in 
clinations,  for,  beyond  his  victory  over  the  men  he 
had  fought,  she  still  eluded  him. 

"Did  you  care  what  happened  to  me  —  much?" 
he  asked  savagely. 

'  Yes ;  I  was  surprised  how  much  I  cared,"  she 
said  slowly,  keeping  her  eyes  on  his. 

There  are  certain  strong,  direct  characters  who  are 
most  vulnerable  in  the  moment  of  their  greatest  ex 
altation  as  the  generality  of  men  are  weakest  in  their 
defeats.  She  saw  in  his  eyes  how  much  she  lacked 
to  his  complete  triumph  and  suddenly  seized  the  op 
portunity  by  the  forelock. 

"  Why  are  you  afraid  to  marry?  "  she  said  vigor 
ously.  "  You  are  a  child;  you  don't  understand  life. 
You  don't  know  how  to  draw  from  it  the  incitements 


274,  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

it  can  give  you.     You  wish  to  be  a  great  figure  and 
you  think  you  can  remain  an  outcast." 

'''  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  said  roughly,  and  ad 
vancing  he  took  her  by  the  shoulders  without  her 
recoiling. 

*  You  want  to  be  another  Gunther,"  she  said, 
meeting  his  glance  with  an  intensity  of  ambition 
greater  than  his,  "and  you  wish  to  fight  like  a 
guerrilla.  You  think  you  need  no  one,  and  you  need 
admiration,  confidence,  to  be  spurred  on,  flattered, 
cajoled,  made  to  feel  your  greatness,  to  have  it 
dinned  into  your  ears  day  and  night,  to  be  surrounded 
by  it.  You  have  the  vanity  of  a  god  and  you  don't 
know  how  to  feed  it." 

"Well,  what  would  you  do?"  he  said,  still  hold 
ing  her  from  him. 

"  I  would  make  you  what  you  should  be :  a  per 
sonage  —  not  a  wanderer,"  she  said  with  extraor 
dinary  energy.  "  I'd  make  your  home  a  court ;  I'd 
show  you  what  it  meant  to  step  into  your  box  at 
the  opera  and  have  the  feeling  that  every  eye  in 
the  house  turned  to  you.  You  want  to  do  great 
things  —  but  you  want  to  feel  that  you  have  done 
great  things,  that  others  are  impressed  by  them, 
envy  and  look  up  to  you.  You  want  that  stimulus 
and  there  is  only  one  way  to  get  it.  Take  your 
place  in  society,  where  you  belong  among  the  great 
figures." 

"  I  find  my  own  stimulus,"  he  said,  looking  at  her. 

"  Listen,  John  Slade,"  she  said  furiously.  "  You 
think  because  you  have  always  done  what  you  want 
with  women  that  that  will  continue.  It  won't.  You 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  275 

are  at  a  dangerous  age.  You  have  depended  upon 
women;  you  cannot  shake  it  off.  The  day  will 
come  when  you'll  be  caught  as  every  man  is  who 
plays  beyond  his  youth  and  strength.  Women  will 
either  hinder  you  or  push  you  on.  Make  up  your 
mind  now.  Which  do  you  want?" 

"  I  want  you ! "  he  said,  suddenly  caught  by  her 
words  that  came  as  an  answer  to  his  new  view  of 
himself;  and  violently,  characteristically,  he  added, 
enfolding  her :  "  And  when  I  want  a  thing,  I  want 
it  now!  Get  your  wraps  on.  We're  going  over  to 
Jersey  now  and  get  married." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  firmly  though  her  heart  was 
beating  so  that  she  thought  he  must  hear  it. 

"  YouVe  got  me.  I  never  expected  it,  but  I've 
got  to  have  you,"  he  said  and  brutally,  without 
thinking  whether  he  hurt  her  or  not,  he  forced  her 
head  up  to  his.  She  did  not  resist,  intoxicated, 
carried  away  by  her  absolute  helplessness  in  his  arms. 
Then,  confident,  he  renewed  his  demand  that  they 
should  be  married  that  night,  at  once. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  disengaging  herself,  and 
though  all  her  natural  being  responded  to  his  de 
mand,  her  intellectual  self  conquered,  knowing  full 
well  that  beyond  winning  him,  she  must  always  main 
tain  over  him  a  certain  moral  superiority.  "  No. 
To  do  what  I  want  to  do,  we  must  not  give  any  one 
the  slightest  occasion  to  talk.  Such  an  act  as  this 
would  be  suicidal." 

"  When  then  ?  "  he  said  furiously. 

"  Announce  our  engagement  tomorrow,"  she  said, 
"  and  in  a  week  we  can  be  married  very  quietly." 


276  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  A  week !  "  he  cried  indignantly. 

"  Or  less,"  she  said,  smiling;  "  and  now  you  must 

go." 

"  You  haven't  said,  '  I  love  you,'  "  he  said  with  a 
last  flash  of  antagonistic  suspicion. 

"  When  I  say  it  you  will  be  satisfied,"  she  said, 
with  a  look  that  revealed  to  him  a  new,  undiscovered 
world. 

"  Rita,"  he  persisted  doggedly,  seizing  her  wrist, 
"  I  know  what  you  can  do,  what  you'll  make  of  us, 
but  that's  not  all.  I  don't  want  any  cold-blooded 
reason-and-logic  marriage.  Look  here.  You've 
got  to  love  me  —  like  hell  —  do  you  understand?" 

She  turned  on  him  swiftly,  opening  her  lips  until 
her  white  teeth  showed  in  their  tense  grip.  Then, 
suddenly  veiling  her  emotion  in  a  relaxing  smile, 
she  said,  as  she  rang  for  Henriette: 

"  No  woman  could  find  it  hard  to  love  you,  John 
Slade." 

When  he  had  left  she  remained  standing  a  long 
while  very  thoughtfully.  Then  she  went  quietly  up 
stairs  and  fell  almost  immediately  into  a  quiet,  pro 
found  sleep.  Her  own  self-possession  surprised 
her;  but  unusual  natures  have  this  over  common 
place  ones  that  they  are  continually  surprising  them 
selves. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  the  next  day  Beecher  reached  his  club  he 
found  all  discussions  centered  upon  John  G. 
Slade  and  the  astonishing  and  incomprehensible  out 
come  of  the  conference  at  Gunther's  of  which  nat 
urally  only  the  usual  misinformation  was  known. 
The  morning  papers  had  contained  a  reassuring 
statement,  backed  by  powerful  names,  of  the  con 
dition  of  the  Associated  Trust,  with  promises  of 
support.  Gunther  had  publicly  announced  that  he 
would  bring  twenty  millions  of  ready  money  to  re 
lieve  the  financial  stringency  and,  if  that  were  not 
sufficient,  twenty  millions  more.  When  the  man  in 
the  Street  comprehended  that  the  great  fortunes  of 
the  country  had  authorized  this  step,  the  effect  was 
instantaneous.  The  stock  market  opened  with  loss 
of  two  to  three  points  and  immediately  recovered 
this  decline  and,  for  the  first  time  during  the  week, 
registered  distinct  advances.  The  runs  on  the  banks 
still  continued,  but  the  lines  of  depositors  were  ap 
parently  less.  At  eleven  o'clock  Rupert  V.  Steele 
visibly  entered  the  offices  of  the  Associated  Trust 
and,  advancing  to  the  deserted  window  of  the 
cashier,  made  the  first  deposit.  In  a  minute  it  was 
publicly  announced  that  five  millions  of  dollars  had 
just  been  deposited  to  the  credit  of  the  great  Col 
umbus  National.  Half  of  the  waiting  line,  wavered, 
turned  and  went  home. 

277 


278  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"Well,  Slack's  turned  the  trick,"  said  Gunther, 
joining  his  friend.  "  But  how  he  managed  to 
wriggle  through  is  a  mystery." 

"  Haven't  seen  the  papers,"  said  Beecher.  "  What 
do  they  say  about  Emma  Fornez  ?  " 

"  Couldn't  be  better.  The  third  act  bowled  'em 
over,"  said  Gunther,  laughing.  Beecher  had  told 
him  of  the  diva's  prophecy.  "  By  the  way,  Ted,  my 
long  shot  may  not  prove  such  a  wild  one.  Mapleson 
is  a  close  friend  of  the  Cheevers  —  rather  attentive 
to  the  lady,  who  from  all  accounts  is  a  rather  frisky 
one.  I  telephoned  McKenna  about  it  and  he  seemed 
distinctly  interested." 

"  McKenna  ?  "  said  Beecher,  opening  his  eyes. 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Gunther,  laughing;  "but  for 
get  I  told  you.  Besides,  I  have  a  feeling  that  things 
will  open  up  now." 

"  Is  McKenna  on  the  trail  of  any  one?  " 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Gunther  slowly;  "and  I  don't 
think  it'll  be  long  now  before  we  hear  of  him.  How 
about  lunch?" 

At  this  moment  a  boy  arrived  with  summons  for 
Beecher  to  the  telephone.  He  did  not  recognize  the 
voice  immediately. 

"  You  don't  know  who  it  is  ?  "  said  a  woman. 

He  thought  he  recognized  the  tones  of  Miss 
Rivers,  whom  he  had  shamefully  neglected  in  the 
excitement  of  the  last  days;  but,  warily,  he  did  not 
commit  himself. 

"  You're  disguising  your  voice,"  he  said  cau 
tiously. 

"  Not  at  all.     You  are  not  very  flattering  —  but 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  279 

when  one  listens  so  much  to  the  voice  of  Emma 
Fornez  — " 

"  Miss  Charters/'  he  said  instantly. 

"  At  last." 

He  was  suddenly  troubled  at  the  discovery,  for  he 
had  sincerely  persuaded  himself  that  he  did  not  in 
tend  to  see  her  again. 

"  She  is  going  to  reproach  me,"  he  thought  un- 
}  easily,  "  for  not  returning  to  see  her  last  night. 
The  devil !  Well,  I  shall  tell  her  the  truth  —  I  didn't 
like  her  companion." 

But  instead  of  reproaches  she  said  in  very  good 
humor : 

"  Look  out,  I  can  be  very  jealous.  What  are 
you  doing  tonight?  " 

"  I  am  dining  out,"  he  said,  fibbing  promptly,  de 
termined  to  remain  firm. 

"  Oh  —  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  with  a  quick 
dropping  of  her  tone.  "  I  wanted  you  to  take 
me  to  a  dress  rehearsal  that  will  be  very  amus 
ing." 

"  I'm  sorry  too." 

"  What  are  you  doing  this  afternoon,  around  tea 
.time?" 

"  I  have  an  engagement,"  he  said  truthfully. 

"With  Emma  Fornez?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  am  not  very  lucky,  am  I  ?  "  she  said. 

The  wounded  tone  in  her  voice  made  him  feel  a 
bit  ashamed.  He  saw  that  she  would  not  ask  him 
again  and  relented  a  little. 

"  Will  you  be  in  at  four  ?     I  can  drop  in  for  a 


280  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

little  chat  then,"  he  said,  amazed  at  his  own  yield 
ing  even  as  he  spoke  the  words. 

"  Come  then.  I  want  very  much  to  see  you,"  she 
answered  but  without  lightness. 

"  Now  I'm  in  it  again !  "  he  said  ruefully  as  he 
left  the  telephone.  "  What  the  deuce  made  me  say 
I'd  go.  Just  because  I  didn't  want  to  hurt  her  — 

0  Lord!     Steady,  old  boy,  steady!" 

Outside  the  booth  he  found  Gunther,  an  after 
noon's  paper  in  his  hand,  scanning  it  with  excite 
ment  on  every  feature. 

"  I  say,  Ted,  here's  news  indeed,"  he  cried 
"  What  do  you  think  of  that?  " 

He  pointed  to  the  headline  on  the  front  page 
where  the  engagement  of  John  G.  Slade  to  Mrs. 
Rita  Kildair  was  announced  in  large  type.  The  two 
young  men  looked  at  each  other  in  profound  aston 
ishment. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Beecher,  suddenly  enlightened. 
"  That's  what  was  at  the  bottom  last  night !  Now 

1  understand."     In  a  moment  he  comprehended  the 
full  measure  of  the  agony  of  uncertainty  she  must 
have  suffered  at  his  side  in  the  returning  automobile. 
"  So  that  was  her  game  after  all! " 

"  Now  things'll  begin  to  move,"  said  Gunther 
eagerly.  "If  she  really  knows  who's  the  thief,  as 
McKenna  believes,  the  ring  ought  to  be  returned  in 
forty-eight  hours." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  now  that  she  is  publicly  engaged  to 
Slade,  any  one  who  has  been  trading  on  the  knowl 
edge  of  how  she  got  the  ring  won't  have  a  shred  to 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  281 

blackmail  her  with.  You  see  it  now  becomes  the 
engagement  ring  that  Slade  gave  her  and  she  can 
move  openly;  and  from  what  I've  seen  of  her,  she'll 
lose  no  time.  Ted,  I'll  prophesy  in  forty-eight  hours 
we'll  hear  something  about  that  ring." 

"  I  believe  you're  right,"  said  Beecher  as  they 
went  into  luncheon;  and,  thinking  of  the  curious 
conjunction  of  Mrs.  Kildair's  and  Miss  Charters' 
prophecy  as  to  the  return  of  the  ring,  he  said  to  him 
self  unwillingly:  "If  the  ring  is  returned,  does  that 
mean  that  Mrs.  Bloodgood  took  it?  " 

A  little  after  four  he  went  to  pay  his  call  on 
Miss  Charters  and  as  he  had  become  accustomed  to 
her  perplexing  change  of  moods,  he  wondered  in 
what  temper  she  would  receive  him.  She  was  in  a 
Russian  blouse  of  gray  corduroy  relieved  by  a  broad 
lace  collar  and  fitted  loosely  to  her  straight,  lithe 
body  by  a  belt  at  the  waist,  an  effect  of  girlish 
simplicity,  very  yielding  and  artless. 

She  did  not  wait  for  him  in  the  sitting-room  but 
came  out  into  the  hall,  taking  his  hat  and  stick  her 
self  and  leading  the  way.  Once  in  the  cosy  sitting- 
room  she  stopped,  turning  to  face  him  and  suddenly 
taking  his  hands  in  hers. 

"  Let  me  look  at  you,"  she  said,  drawing  off  and 
raising  her  eyes  to  his  thoughtfully,  while  her  lips 
twisted  a  little  into  a  most  serious  sternness. 

"  Little  imp ! "  he  thought  grimly,  prepared 
against  her  wiles  and  yet  a  little  startled  at  this  fig 
ure  of  a  young  girl  which  so  tantalizingly  confronted 
him. 

She  saw  at  once,  in  the  amused  composure  of  his 


282  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

face,  that  she  had  been  mistaken  in  ascribing  his  ab 
sence  to  the  pique  of  jealousy.  What  she  had  on 
her  lips  she  did  not  say,  and  suddenly  alert  at  the 
realization  that  her  presence  no  longer  troubled  him 
she  drew  him  toward  the  fireplace,  leading  him  to  a 
great  armchair. 

"  There/'  she  said,  laughing,  "  you  will  see  how 
we  treat  the  prodigal  son.  Sit  down."  She  brought 
a  cushion  and  insisted  upon  placing  it  behind  his 
back.  "  Don't  get  up.  A  scotch  and  soda  ?  Sit 
still  —  I  like  to  mix  it." 

She  went  to  a  table  and  presently  came  back  with 
the  tumbler,  offering  it  to  him  with  a  well  simulated 
attitude  of  submission.  When  he  took  it,  she  dropped 
a  curtsey  and  going  to  the  library  table,  re 
turned  with  a  box  of  cigars  and  the  matches.  Con 
tinuing  always  the  same  game,  determined  to  force 
a  laugh,  she  lit  the  match,  holding  it  to  him  between 
her  rosy  palms. 

"Is  your  lordship  satisfied?" 

"  I  am." 

She  lit  a  cigarette  in  turn  and  camping  down  on 
the  bear  rug,  Eastern  fashion,  puffed  a  ring  of 
smoke  in  the  direction  of  the  fire.  For  a  moment 
neither  spoke,  she  studying  the  embers,  he  enjoy 
ing  this  new  side  to  her  and  awaiting  the  next  de 
velopment. 

"  I'm  very  unhappy,"  she  said  at  last,  without 
looking  at  him. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  answered  sympathetically. 

"  I  have  had  a  great  disappointment.  I  read  that 
play  of  Hargrave's  again  —  there's  nothing  to  it." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  283 

"  You  surprise  me." 

The  fact  was  that  Brockway,  Stigler's  stage  direc 
tor  had  torn  it  to  pieces.  She  continued,  repeating 
what  Brockway  had  said: 

"The  trouble  is,  it's  not  actable.  It's  like  all 
plays  that  read  well  —  I  should  have  known  it. 
There's  no  dramatic  action.  Then,  it  has  one  great 
fault  —  all  young  writers  have  it  —  you  see,  every 
scene  should  be  a  unit  in  itself,  express  one  dra 
matic  emotion,  develop  it,  and  increase  it;  and  Har- 
grave  puts  three  or  four  emotions  in  the  same  page 

—  five  or   six,"   she   continued   indignantly.     "  It's 
all     mixed     up  —  topsy-turvy  —  no     actress     could 
make  an  effect."     (This  had  been  its  chief  merit  two 
days  before.)      "It's  very  sad;  I  shall  never  find  a 
play." 

"'  You  were  very  enthusiastic  a  few  days  ago," 
he  said. 

"Was  I?"  she  said  resentfully.  "You  see,  the 
trouble  is,  in  reading  you  imagine  things  that  aren't 
there." 

"  So  Hargrave  isn't  a  genius  after  all  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  He  is  very  conceited  —  insufferably  so,"  she  said 
abruptly.  "  But  you  don't  understand  —  it's  the 
disappointment  to  me  —  I  shall  never  find  a  play. 
Sometimes  I  feel  like  giving  it  all  up.  It's  terrible 

—  breaking  your  heart  day  after  day.     Yes,  some 
times  I  feel  like  never  acting  again." 

"  You  are  in  a  blue  mood,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"  Everything  has  gone  wrong,"  she  said,  pouting. 
"  Even  you  have  changed !  " 


284  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  look  of  a  tired  child,  long 
ing  to  climb  into  his  lap  to  be  consoled. 

"  How  so  ?  "  he  said,  opening  his  eyes. 

"  Teddy,  have  I  offended  you  ?  "  she  asked  gently, 
seeing  that  she  could  not  unbend  him  by  playing 
upon  his  sympathy. 

"  Not  the  least." 

She  would  have  preferred  any  answer  but  this. 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  go  with  me  tonight  ?  "  she 
said  quickly. 

"  Because  I  have  another  engagement,"  he  said, 
instinctively  glancing  at  the  clock. 

She  saw  the  look,  sprang  up  from  the  rug  furiously, 
and  leaping  toward  the  mantelpiece  seized  the  of 
fending  clock  and  flung  it  across  the  room  in  a  tan 
trum. 

"  Go  to  your  Emma  Fornez !  "  she  said,  stamping 
her  foot.  "If  you  are  going  to  sit  here  and  meas 
ure  the  minutes,  you  can  go !  " 

He  rose,  startled  at  the  passion  of  jealousy  he 
had  aroused. 

"  I  told  you  I  had  an  engagement,"  he  began. 

"  Nonsense !  "  she  burst  out,  still  the  prey  of  her 
anger.  "  You  know  very  well  you  can  keep  her 
waiting  half  an  hour  if  you  wish,  and  you  know 
very  well  that  you  can  put  off  your  engagement  to 
night —  or  is  it  with  her,  always  with  her?" 

"  I  don't  care  to  discuss  my  engagements,"  he  said 
coldly,  an  emotion  which  he  was  far  from  feeling, 
for  the  sudden  wild-eyed  fury  into  which  he  had 
plunged  her  awoke  in  him  something  that  thrilled 
him,  as  he  had  been  thrilled  the  day  he  had  returned 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  285 

Mrs.  Bloodgood  to  her  home,  at  the  thought  of  what 
a  consuming  passion  might  be. 

"  Why  do  you  tag  around  with  her  ?  "  she  con 
tinued  heedlessly.  "  I  should  think  you'd  have  more 
regard  for  your  dignity  —  for  what  people  think  — 
Emma  Fornez  —  ah !  " 

She  stopped,  pressing  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes 
and  then,  feeling  he  had  perceived  it,  she  exclaimed : 
"  If  I  cry  it's  because  I  am  disappointed  —  dis 
illusionized  —  angry ! " 

She  turned  her  back  and  went  quickly  to  the  win 
dow  where  the  little  Dresden  clock  lay  shattered  in 
a  corner.  She  picked  it  up  and  looked  at  it,  swal 
lowing  her  anger.  Then,  as  he  continued  to  keep 
the  silence,  she  came  back,  without  looking  at  him, 
placed  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  again  and  said 
coldly : 

"  Well,  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  —  not  to  keep  her 
waiting." 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  said  with  a  bow,  and  left 
the  apartment. 

When  he  reached  the  street,  he  was  overcome  with 
surprise. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said,  swinging  joyfully  along. 
"  Is  it  possible  after  all  that  she  does  care  about 
me?  How  her  eyes  blazed  —  the  little  fury.  That 
at  least  wasn't  acting !  " 

And  though  he  remained  until  late,  amused  at 
Emma  Fornez,  he  felt  the  flame  of  the  other  pres 
ence  about  him,  obtruding  itself  at  every  moment; 
and  he  who  had  seen  the  play  of  strong  emotions 
in  Mrs.  Bloodgood  and  Mrs.  Kildair,  avidly  began 


286  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

to  feel  what  it  would  mean  to  be  loved  with  such 
intensity. 

Emma  Fornez  questioned  him  about  Miss  Char 
ters  but  for  the  first  time  he  resolutely  concealed 
from  her  what  had  taken  place. 

That  night  on  his  return  to  his  rooms,  he  found  a 
short  note  from  Bruce  Gunther: 

DEAR  TED, 

Be  at  McKenna's  offices  to-morrow  —  ten  sharp.  Some- 
thing  doing. 

B. 

P.  S.    Keep  this  to  yourself  —  saves? 


CHAPTER  XX 

DEAR  TEDDY, 

I  am  very  much  ashamed  at  what  happened  yesterday. 
Please  forgive  my  ill-humor  and  some  day,  when  you  have 
a  spare  hour,  do  come  to  see  me. 

Very  cordially  your  friend, 

NAN  CHARTERS. 

THIS  note  was  the  first  which  Beecher  read  on 
awakening  the  next  morning.  He  had  slept  by 
fits  and  starts,  troubled  by  the  memory  of  his  last  in 
terview  with  the  young  actress.  The  sudden  un 
checked  tempest  of  jealousy  and  anger  which  had 
revealed  to  him  the  dramatic  intensity  of  the  woman 
had  made  a  more  haunting  impression  on  his  imag 
ination  than  all  her  premeditated  appeals. 

"If  after  all  she  does  love  me?  How  tremen 
dous  it  would  be,"  he  had  said  to  himself  a  dozen 
times,  turning  restlessly,  in  the  half  stupor  of  wak 
ing  sleep. 

He  lived  over  again  the  scene  —  only  this  time  it 
seemed  to  him  that  when  she  had  flung  the  clock  from 
her  in  a  passion,  he  had  laughed  joyfully  and  caught 
her  struggling  in  his  arms,  exulting  in  this  rage  which 
burned  so  close  to  him.  His  first  impulse  on  read 
ing  her  note  was  to  telephone  her  immediately,  but 
he  resisted  this  movement,  saying  to  himself  that  that 
would  be  surrendering  all  his  advantage. 

"  I'll  call  up  later,"  he  thought  with  a  smile ;  "  that 
will  be  much  better." 

287 


288  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

He  went  eagerly  down  to  McKenna's  office,  won 
dering  what  surprise  was  in  store.  Gunther  and 
McKenna  were  already  in  the  latter's  private  office, 
as  he  entered,  and  with  the  first  look  he  took  at 
the  detective's  smiling  countenance,  he  perceived 
that  he  must  be  on  the  track  of  something  signifi 
cant. 

"  We  were  discussing  Mrs.  Kildair's  engagement," 
said  Gunther.  "  McKenna  agrees  with  me  that  it 
will  expedite  matters  wonderfully." 

"How  did  Slade  manage  it?"  said  Beecher  at 
once. 

The  detective,  without  answering,  went  to  his  desk 
and  picked  up  a  square  of  cardboard  on  which  he 
had  pasted  two  clippings  from  the  newspapers,  one 
the  announcement  signed  by  Gunther,  Sr.,  Marx  and 
Fontaine,  giving  notice  of  their  support  of  the  As 
sociated  Trust,  and  the  other  the  bare  announce 
ment  of  the  prospective  marriage  of  John  G.  Slade 
and  Mrs.  Rita  Kildair. 

"  I  am  going  to  preserve  this  and  hang  it  up  over 
my  mantelpiece,"  he  said,  looking  at  it  thoughtfully, 
"  and  when  I  have  an  idle  hour,  I'll  stretch  out, 
smoke  up  and  study  it.  A  couple  of  million  people 
must  have  seen  that  —  and  that's  all  they'll  ever 
know." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  can  only  —  deduce,"  he  said,  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  He  glanced  at  the  clock  and  said  hurriedly: 
"  Now  we  must  get  down  to  business.  I  am  expect 
ing  some  one  in  half  an  hour  who  ought  to  par 
ticularly  interest  you." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  289 

"  You  know  who  took  the  ring !  "  said  Beecher  in 
stantly. 

"  I  know  several  things,"  said  McKenna  briskly ; 
"  but  everything  in  place.  I  promised  you  gentlemen, 
as  you  are  interested  in  those  things,  a  little  history 
of  the  party  that  was  at  Mrs.  Kildair's  that  night. 
It's  nothing  as  literary  style  goes  — just  facts.  Here 
it  is.  I'll  skip  the  personal  descriptions." 

He  took  up  a  bundle  of  notes,  seated  himself  on  the 
corner  of  the  flat  desk,  and  began  to  read: 

"  Cheever,  Stanley :  Age  48 ;  married ;  old  New 
York  family;  left  a  fortune  estimated  at  $425,00x3,  at 
the  death  of  his  father,  Ganet  Cheever,  when  he  was 
twenty-eight.  Lived  ten  years  abroad,  principally 
London;  inveterate  gambler;  lost  heavily  at  Monte 
Carlo  —  sum  estimated  at  $125,000;  later  became 
involved  in  a  gambling  scandal  in  England,  but  it  was 
hushed  up  by  his  payment  of  a  large  sum  to  cover 
notes  given.  Continued  to  lose  heavily  at  St.  Peters 
burg,  Baden  and  Paris ;  began  borrowing  large  sums, 
meeting  obligations  with  difficulty.  Declared  bank 
ruptcy  in  Colorado,  where  he  had  gone  to  promote 
a  mine;  his  statements  contested  by  creditors  who 
brought  suit;  contest  settled  out  of  court  by  pay 
ment  by  his  relatives  to  avoid  a  family  scandal.  Re 
turned  to  New  York  and  engaged  himself  as  an  ex 
ploiter  of  well-known  wine  merchants.  Married 
three  years  ago  Lydia  Borgen,  daughter  of  a  large 
importing  grocer,  who  brought  him  $100,000. 
Lives  at  rate  of  $20,000  a  year.  Only  known  oc 
cupation  gambling;  said  to  have  won  fifty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  in  three  nights'  play  from  Kane  Went- 


290  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

worth  and  Thomas  Haggerty,  Jr., —  protested  but 
paid.  Method  of  play  has  occasioned  numerous  re 
ports  to  his  discredit.  Accused  operating  a  system 
of  private  signals  with  his  wife,  by  Mrs.  Elmer  Jar- 
dine  after  scene  at  card-table;  brought  suit  for  libel 
against  her  and  received  $12,000  damages  out  of 
court  to  compromise  it.  Is  not  received  in  home  of 
father-in-law.  Cut  off  by  mother's  will.  Frequently 
quarrels  with  his  wife  over  the  attentions  of  other 
men.  Known  to  have  applied  unsuccessfully  at  sev 
eral  banks  within  the  last  month  to  raise  loans. 
Heavily  speculated  on  long  side  of  recent  market, 
purchasing  large  block  of  stocks,  margined,  on  morn 
ing  after  theft  of  ring,  and  said  to  be  heavily  involved. 
Sought  aid  of  wife's  relatives  day  before  yesterday; 
refused. 

Cheever,  Mrs.  Lydia :  Born  Lydia  Borgen,  daugh 
ter  Harris  Borgen,  German  immigrant,  who  married 
Lydia  Foley,  waitress  in  Pearl  Street  restaurant. 
Father  made  fortune  in  grocery  business,  establish 
ing  with  brother  in  South  America  a  large  importing 
office  dealing  in  cocoa,  coffee,  and  fruit.  At  death 
of  uncle,  Lydia  became  heir  to  $1005000.  Father 
said  to  be  worth  three  quarters  of  a  million,  but 
estranged  from  daughter,  whose  marriage  he  opposed. 
As  a  young  girl  Lydia,  rebellious  and  wild,  con 
stantly  involved  in  escapades,  notably  with  an  actor, 
James  Rocker,  with  whom  she  attempted  to  elope 
and  go  on  the  stage.  Kept  under  strict  surveillance, 
but  at  age  of  seventeen  ran  off  with  Charles  Bour- 
goyne,  young  English  groom  at  Waltby's  riding 
academy.  Pursued  and  arrested  just  as  about  to  be 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  291 

married  in  New  Jersey.  Bourgoyne  arrested  for  ab 
duction  but  later  paid  to  leave  country.  Married  at 
nineteen  to  Stanley  Cheever,  through  mediation  of 
mother  and  a  Mrs.  Dorgan,  notorious  marriage 
broker.  Has  become  tool  of  husband  in  schemes 
of  raising  money  while  leading  a  separate  existence. 
Keeps  private  bank  account  unknown  to  husband. 
Very  extravagant  in  personal  expenses  which  can 
not  be  accounted  for  on  known  income.  From  be 
ginning  of  married  life  has  been  conspicuous  for 
her  relations  with  other  men,  generally  wealthy 
bachelors,  who  have  subsequently  lost  money  at  cards : 
names  best  known,  Edward  Fontaine,  Reginald  For 
rest,  Thomas  Haggerty,  Jr.  At  present  seen  fre 
quently  with  R.  G.  Mapleson  of  firm  of  Sontag  & 
Co.—" 

"  Mapleson !  "  said  the  two  young  men  in  a  breath. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  McKenna,  raising 
his  hand.  "  Wait  till  I  get  through  " ;  and  he  contin 
ued  to  read  in  his  matter-of-fact,  unemotional  voice 
these  pages  of  hard,  glaring  facts  that  left  his  hear 
ers  straining  forward  to  catch  every  word : 

"  At  present .  deeply  involved  in  affair  with  E.  V. 
Garraboy.  Seems  to  have  been  introduced  to  the 
broker  at  desire  of  husband,  to  obtain  through  this 
channel  information  which  his  sister,  Mrs.  Enos 
Blood  good,  may  have  acquired  from  B.  L.  Majendie 
of  financial  affairs  in  general  and  particularly  At 
lantic  Trust.  Acquaintance  developed  into  violent 
passion  for  Garraboy  by  Mrs.  Cheever;  has  met  him 
frequently  of  late,  twice  having  been  followed  to 
his  apartments.  Of  late,  scenes  with  husband  have 


292  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

been  increasing  in  violence,  coupled  with  mutual 
threats  —  believe  rupture  possible. 

"Item:  Bills  against  Mrs.  Cheever  known  to  be 
outstanding  include  $13,800  to  Sontag  &  Co.,  for 
jewels;  $1,200  to  Madame  Cortin  for  hats,  etc.; 
$8,300  to  Friegel  Bros.,  robes. 

"Item:  The  $100,000  she  inherited,  stands  in 
her  own  name,  but  is  believed  to  be  now  reduced  to 
$75,000.  Morning  after  theft  of  ring,  sold  short 
through  Garraboy,  her  broker,  5,000  shares  Union 
Pacific.  For  further  details,  see  Garraboy. 

"  Charming  little  domestic  circle,  eh  ?  "  said  Mc- 
Kenna,  laying  down  the  sheet.  "  Now  for  another : 

"  Bloodgood,  Enos  R. :  Owner  New  York  Daily 
Star;  large  holder  of  real  estate  in  lower  New  York  ; 
director  Metropolitan  Opera;  brought  up,  at  death 
of  his  parents,  by  his  grandfather,  Joseph  Bloodgood, 
president  of  the  Northwestern  Railroad,  as  his  pros 
pective  heir.  At  age  of  20,  despite  threats  of  his 
guardian,  left  college  and  married  Charlotte  Gran- 
by,  daughter  of  his  tutor.  Promptly  disinherited. 
Went  to  work  as  a  clerk  in  Brooklyn  drygoods  store, 
living  on  twenty-five  dollars  a  week,  refusing  all 
overtures  from  grandfather,  who  offered  to  forgive 
him  on  condition  of  separation  from  his  wife,  allow 
ing  her  $20,000.  Refused  and  lived  in  that  condi 
tion  for  five  years  until  her  death,  brought  on  by 
privations.  Reconciled  with  grandfather  and  sent 
abroad  for  a  journey  through  Europe.  Two  years 
later  became  violently  infatuated  with  a  Spanish 
singer  of  the  Cafe  Chantants  and  went  with  her  on  a 
trip  to  South  America,  again  defying  his  guardian. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  293 

At  the  end  of  a  year,  affair  ended  by  a  secret  pay 
ment  made  by  his  grandfather  to  the  woman  to  pro 
cure  her  desertion.  Followed  her  and  engaged  in 
duel  with  her  companion,  from  whom  he  received 
serious  wounds.  After  recovery,  returned  to  Paris, 
where  he  again  became  entangled  in  violent  infatu 
ations.  On  point  of  marrying  an  Austrian  countess 
of  doubtful  history,  fell  ill  with  pneumonia  and  al 
most  died.  Returned  to  New  York  and  became 
reconciled  with  grandfather.  Seemed  to  turn  over 
new  leaf;  entered  journalism  and  made  good  record 
for  steadiness  and  conservatism,  leading  exemplary 
life.  Grandfather,  in  his  will,  however,  contrary  to 
expectations,  cut  him  off  with  $20,000.  Two  months 
later,  married  Mrs.  Georgiana  Wakeman,  fifteen 
years  his  senior,  fortune  estimated  at  ten  millions, 
widow  of  former  owner  of  N.  Y.  Star,  which  then 
passed  under  his  control.  Next  ten  years  remarka 
ble  for  his  strict  application  to  business  and  the  dis 
soluteness  of  his  private  life.  Mixed  up  in  several 
promoting  schemes  with  various  success.  At  death 
of  second  wife,  received  bulk  of  fortune.  Remained 
widower  three  years,  greatly  increasing  fortune  at 
period  of  Trust  consolidations.  Married  third  wife, 
Elise  Garraboy,  noted  Southern  beauty,  no  fortune. 
Union  unhappy  after  first  months;  returned  to  his 
old  habits.  Three  months  ago  forced  to  pay  $15,000 
to  prevent  blackmailing  suit  on  part  of  a  Miss  Edna 
Rusk,  chorus  girl.  Plunged  heavily  on  short  side  of 
late  market  in  a  pool  formed  to  bear  market ;  reputed 
to  have  made  immense  gains. 

"Item:     Has  been  in  confidential  relations  with 


294  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Miss  Maud  Lille  for  some  time.  Visited  her  early 
morning,  after  theft  of  ring." 

"  That's  queer,"  said  Gunther,  startled  at  this  final 
detail.  "  Did  Bloodgood  do  anything  in  the  market 
that  day?" 

"  Sold  right  and  left,"  said  McKenna,  exchanging 
papers. 

Beecher,  more  impressionable  than  his  companion, 
said  nothing,  overcome  by  the  bare  recital  of  this 
brutal,  materialistic  life  that  once  had  been  young 
and  stirred  to  unbelievable  sacrifice. 

"  Bloodgood,  Mrs.  Enos :  Born  Elise  Garraboy ; 
sister  of  Edward  Garraboy;  old  Southern  family, 
New  Orleans;  father  Colonel  Marston  Garraboy; 
died  when  children  were  little.  Mother  married 
Boyd  Hallowel,  Englishman,  third  son  Lord  Car- 
mody,  came  to  live  in  New  York.  Hallowel  died 
ten  years  later,  leaving  her  with  small  income  but 
social  connections.  Elise  educated  at  convent ;  made 
debut  in  society  at  age  of  eighteen;  great  beauty; 
numerous  suitors;  engaged  in  second  season  to  Enos 
Bloodgood ;  engagement  broken ;  married  a  year  later. 
Story  current,  forced  into  it  to  save  mother  from 
bankruptcy.  Left  husband  twice  in  first  two  years, 
but  persuaded  to  return  by  mother.  Met  Bernard 
L.  Majendie  eight  months  ago  at  Palm  Beach.  In 
fatuation  no  secret;  understood  that  two  weeks  be 
fore  panic  had  placed  her  interests  in  hands  of  law 
yers,  who  procured  evidence  for  divorce;  action 
halted  temporarily.  Night  of  party  at  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair's,  trunks  packed  for  journey,  tickets  purchased 
at  Grand  Central  to  Montreal.  Day  after,  made  nc 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  295 

investments  in  Wall  Street.  Following  day,  left 
home  with  trunks  and  returned  shortly  after  suicide. 
Violent  scenes  with  husband.  Shut  herself  up  in 
room  for  hours.  That  night  went  to  home  of  Ma- 
jendie,  company  with  — " 

Suddenly  McKenna  stopped  at  a  violent  movement 
of  surprise  from  Beecher,  and  said  quickly,  " —  a 
woman  and  a  young  man.  Said  to  be  totally  with 
out  funds;  husband  reputed  to  allow  her  only  $120 
a  month  pocket-money.  That's  all." 

Gunther  had  been  quick  to  see  the  agitation  of  his 
companion  but,  since  he  comprehended  that  whatever 
the  part  he  had  played  Beecher  wished  to  keep  it  in 
confidence,  he  pretended  to  have  understood  noth 
ing. 

"  Then  there  is  no  trace  of  Mrs.  Bloodgood's  hav 
ing  gone  into  the  market?  "  he  said. 

"  None,"  replied  McKenna.  "  There  are  other 
details,  but  they  come  better  under  head  of  the 
brother." 

He  shuffled  the  remaining  sheets  and  then,  as 
though  divining  the  unease  of  Beecher,  he  said  in 
a  matter-of-fact  tone: 

"  Here's  the  history  of  Miss  Nan  Charters ;  but  as 
it  gives  us  nothing  important  we  don't  know,  I'll 
leave  it  out.  Particularly  as  we're  short  of  time. 
However,  I'll  say  this  —  there  is  no  record  of  any 
stock  transactions  except  that  which  we  know  of  al 
ready.  The  next  is  Miss  Maud  Lille,  a  curious  char 
acter,  too." 

Beecher  drew  a  long  breath  and  relaxed  in  his 
chair,  grateful  to  McKenna  for  his  consideration. 


296  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Lille,  Maud,"  said  the  detective,  reading.  "  Real 
name  Margaret  Case;  daughter  Rev.  Hiram  Case 
and  Fanny  Saunders,  Zanesville,  Ohio;  left  home  at 
age  of  sixteen;  studied  one  year  to  be  trained  nurse; 
left  hospital  and  studied  stenography;  later  joined 
traveling  circus,  business  department;  became  press 
agent.  Stranded  in  northern  Arizona;  earned  living 
by  writing  for  local  newspapers  under  name  Jane 
Anderson ;  went  to  San  Francisco  and  from  there  to 
Honolulu,  supporting  herself  by  her  writings,  occa 
sionally  taking  regular  position  as  stenographer.  In 
Hawaii  met  and  married  an  eastern  adventurer 
known  under  name  of  Edward  Bracken;  returned 
with  him  to  San  Francisco,  where  couple  engaged  in 
mining  speculations.  Husband  pursued  for  fraud 
and  fled;  wife  arrested  but  released.  Went  to  Chi 
cago  after  securing  divorce  and  changed  name  to 
Maud  Lille.  Sent  to  Cripple  Creek  by  Chicago 
World  and  made  a  hit  by  her  graphic  accounts  of 
labor  conditions.  Married  Patrick  O'Fallon,  wealthy 
mine  owner.  Went  with  him  for  trip  in  Europe  but 
apparently  dissatisfied  with  life  left  him  and  returned 
to  newspaper  work,  establishing  herself  in  New  York. 
Not  divorced.  Under  own  name  author  of  several 
successful  novels;  prefers  Bohemian  existence  of 
journalist  evidently,  reporting  prize-fights,  political 
conventions,  murder  trials,  etc.  Attached  to  staff 
of  New  York  Star  and  apparently  much  in  confidence 
of  owner.  Lately  much  interested  in  stock  market. 
On  morning  after  theft  met  E.  V.  Garraboy  at  Le- 
vere's  restaurant,  near  home,  before  breakfast;  re 
turned  to  her  apartment  and  saw  Enos  Bloodgood 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  297 

two  hours  later.  Reported  sold  short  500  shares 
Union  Pacific." 

"  By  Jove,"  exclaimed  Beecher  as  Gunther  rose 
excitedly  to  his  feet,  "  you've  got  it !  " 

"  Maud  Lille  took  it  first  and  transferred  it  to 
Garraboy,"  said  Gunther,  then  he  stopped,  puzzled; 
"but  Bloodgood  —  that's  incredible!" 

"  Hold  in  your  horses,"  said  McKenna,  shaking 
his  head  with  silent  laughter,  delighted,  in  fact,  that 
they  had  fallen  into  his  trap.  "  There's  one  more  lit 
tle  history  to  read."  He  hesitated  and  then  said: 
<l  Now,  I  don't  want  to  play  up  to  a  little  tin  god  on 
wheels,  though  that's  easy  enough.  I'll  say  this, 
that  a  good  deal  of  the  information  I  am  reading 
you  I  have  had  in  hand.  The  gentleman  whose 
bright  little  history  I  am  going  to  read  you,  I  have 
had  my  eyes  on  for  some  time.  That'll  develop. 

"  Garraboy,  Edward  V. :  Sent  to  military  train 
ing  school ;  expelled ;  went  up  north,  boarding-school ; 
expelled;  tutored  for  college  and  went  to  Harvard; 
ran  up  debts  to  extent  of  over  a  thousand  dollars  in 
two  months,  signing  promissory  notes.  Paid  by 
stepfather,  who  withdrew  him  at  the  request  of  col 
lege  authorities;  cut  off  by  family  and  sent  to  Chi 
cago  with  four  hundred  dollars  to  enter  business 
house.  Instead,  speculated  in  wheat  market  and  said 
to  have  made  a  little  money.  Went  to  Denver  with 
small  capital  and  posed  as  son  of  wealthy  parents. 
Made  acquaintance  of  a  family  called  Sanderson 
and  shortly  became  engaged  to  daughter,  heiress  to 
considerable  fortune.  Engagement  broken  as  result 
of  investigations.  Left  Denver,  leaving  behind  a 


298  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

number  of  debts  and  bad  checks.  Next  heard  of  in 
southern  California,  working  in  mine;  got  in  shoot 
ing  affray  over  daughter  of  Mexican  and  went  into 
British  Columbia.  Used  many  names.  Spent  a  year 
in  small  stock  companies  playing  little  roles;  made  a 
lucky  gamble  in  silver  mine  and  went  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  living  high.  Went  to  Seattle ;  became  engaged 
to  a  widow  of  large  real  estate  manipulator;  per 
suaded  her  to  invest  her  money  in  land  exploitation 
scheme  in  southern  California  which  proved  failure. 
Ran  away  from  Seattle  and  went  to  Hawaii  to  sell 
imitation  jewelry  under  name  of  Edward  — " 

"  Bracken !  "  exclaimed  the  two  young  men  in  one 
breath. 

"  Exactly." 

"  Married  to  Maud  Lille !  "  cried  Gunther,  the 
first  to  recover  his  astonishment.  "  Why,  the  little 
toad!  How  the  deuce  did  these  women  fall  for 
him?" 

"Oh,  that's  a  question  by  itself,  Mr.  Gunther," 
said  McKenna,  smiling.  "  It's  a  good  deal  in  study 
ing  what  you're  dealing  with,  and  Garraboy  watched 
them  pretty  close.  Let  me  finish. 

"  Came  to  San  Francisco,  as  you  know ;  fled  to  es 
cape  pursuit;  changing  name,  shipped  as  clerk  on  a 
merchantman  from  New  Orleans.  Next  known  of 
him,  returned  from  the  Far  East  under  own  name 
with  apparently  a  certain  amount  of  money.  On 
hearing  marriage  of  his  sister,  came  to  New  York  and 
established  himself  in  Wall  Street,  largely  through 
the  aid  of  Bloodgood,  over  whose  head  evidently 
has  held  some  threat.  Met  Maud  Lille  and  probably 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  299 

came  to  some  understanding  with  her;  has  paid  her 
money  from  time  to  time.  Encouraged  sister's  in 
fatuation  for  Majendie,  whom  sought  to  enlist  in 
scheme  for  rice  production  in  South;  failed.  Made 
money  rapidly  until  three  months  ago,  when  several 
ventures  failed  and  became  involved.  Secured  per 
sonal  loan  of  $10,000  from  Majendie  without  knowl 
edge  of  sister.  Has  lived  at  rate  of  $40,000  a  year, 
running  several  establishments;  said  to  have  given 
$15,000  worth  of  jewelry  to  Mile.  Clo.  D'Aresco,  the 
dancer,  on  her  last  visit  here.  Made  immense  short 
sales  in  recent  market  and  was  on  verge  of  failure 
when  panic  saved  him.  Has  profited  by  infatuation 
of  Mrs.  Cheever  to  borrow  large  sums  in  last  week. 
On  day  after  theft  sold  steadily  all  day;  under  sus 
picions  by  his  own  clients  and  on  verge  of  arrest, 
when  drop  in  stocks  turned  tide  in  his  favor.  Re 
puted  to  have  covered  his  losses  and  made  $100,000 
in  last  three  days." 

"  You  were  on  his  track  then !  "  exclaimed  Beecher, 
suddenly  enlightened. 

"  I  was  and  I  am,"  said  McKenna ;  "  and  in  less 
than  twenty- four  hours  I'll  shake  down  that  frisky 
gentleman  for  about  forty-five  thousand  dollars  that 
he  has  been  speculating  with.  Four  days  ago  I 
couldn't  have  collected  forty-five  cents.  That's  why 
I  held  off." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  said  Beecher,  suddenly  remember 
ing.  "  I  say,  McKenna,  Miss  Charters'  money  is 
tied  up  with  him.  You  don't  suppose  —  by  Jove,  I 
hope  nothing's  wrong !  " 

"  You  give  me  the  amount,"  said  McKenna  with 


300  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

a  click  of  his  teeth.  "  I'll  get  it.  He  knows,  I  guess, 
by  this  time  what  a  pretty  little  story  it  would  make 
in  the  morning  papers.  He  won't  resist  —  not  he !  " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Beecher  excitedly,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  pocketbook.  "  By  Jove,  that's  lucky. 
I've  still  got  that  order.  I  can  telephone  her  now  — " 

"  Telephone  nothing,"  said  McKenna,  reaching  out 
his  hand.  "  I  don't  need  that  order,  except  as  a  ref 
erence.  Just  keep  it  quiet.  The  young  lady  won't 
thank  you  less  for  your  saving  her  without  her  knowl 
edge,  will  she?  " 

"  No,"  said  Beecher,  flurried.  "  Here's  the  or 
der.  When'll  you  get  at  Garraboy?  " 

"  In  about  ten  minutes,"  said  McKenna,  reaching 
over  for  a  fresh  cigar. 

"Here?" 

"  Right  here." 

"And  the  ring?"  asked  Gunther  quickly. 

"What  do  you  think?"  said  McKenna,  his  little 
eyes  snapping  through  the  blaze  of  the  match  as  he 
lighted  his  cigar. 

"  I  think  it  lies  between  Mrs.  Cheever,  Miss  Lille 
and  Garraboy,"  said  Gunther ;  "  either  woman  took 
it  and  either  passed  it  to  Garraboy  at  the  table  — " 

"Well?"  said  McKenna,  as  Gunther  hesitated. 

"  Or  Garraboy  took  it  first  and  passed  it  to  one 
of  them." 

"Why?" 

"  For  fear  that  he  or  she  had  been  seen  taking  it 
the  first  time  —  to  cover  up  the  tracks.  Whoever 
may  have  seen  the  ring  taken  would  believe  the 
original  thief  had  restored  it  and  kept  quiet." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  301 

"  That's  ingenious,  and  I  must  say  it  may  prove 
to  have  some  bearing,"  said  McKenna.  "  It's  like 
wise  possible.  But  you  gentlemen  have  missed  the 
whole  point  of  what  I've  been  reading  you/' 

"In  what  way?" 

"  There's  not  one  bit  of  evidence  who  took  the 
ring,"  said  McKenna,  with  a  gesture  at  the  record 
ing  sheets.  "  It  shows  who  might  have  taken  it  — 
that's  true.  Now,  what  it  shows  is  this  —  what  was 
working  in  every  one's  mind  the  night  of  that  party. 
You  remember  that  it  was  on  the  night  before  Maj- 
endie's  failure,  and  that  the  whole  question  of  the 
panic  hung  on  whether  he  was  going  to  pull  through 
or  not.  Now,  of  every  one  who  was  there,  with  the 
exception  of  Miss  Charters,  Mrs.  Bloodgood  and 
Mr.  Beecher  here,  every  one  was  in  Wall  Street  up 
to  their  necks,  and  if  they  knew  what  had  happened 
to  Majendie  they  could  call  the  turn.  Now,  what 
happened?  Bloodgood  was  getting  his  information 
from  Maud  Lille,  who  got  it  from  Garraboy,  who 
easy  enough  could  get  it  from  his  sister,  not  out 
of  treachery,  but  unconsciously,  you  may  be  sure. 
Well,  all  these  three  got  the  straight  tip.  That's 
what  the  meeting  next  morning  was  about.  Blood- 
good  never  took  the  ring;  that  would  be  ridiculous; 
and  Maud  Lille,  whatever  her  record  for  drifting,  is 
not  a  crook.  So  those  meetings  were  on  the  ques 
tion  of  speculation,  pure  and  simple. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Cheever  got  the  news  straight  and 
Mr.  Cheever  didn't,  though  he  depended  on  his  wife 
working  Garraboy.  Cheever  bought  stocks  and  was 
caught.  That  likewise  shows  there  may  be  some  in- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

teresting  developments  in  that  charming  little  family, 
particularly  when  he  finds  out  that  Mrs.  Cheever 
sold  and  won.  Now,  what  have  we  to  go  on  ?  Chee- 
ver's  a  crook  —  but  if  he  took  it,  he  did  it  alone. 

"  Garraboy's  a  crook  and,  following  Mr.  Gunther's 
theory,  he  could  have  taken  it  alone  or  working  with 
Mrs.  Cheever.  If  there  was  any  collusion,  it  was 
there.  Gentlemen,  I  am  only  discussing  possibil 
ities." 

"If  the  ring  was  taken  to  raise  money  to  gamble 
in  Wall  Street,  then  it  lies  between  Cheever  and  Gar- 
raboy,"  said  Gunther. 

"  Say  it  this  way:  if  Mrs.  Cheever  or  Miss  Lille 
took  it,  Garraboy  would  probably  know  — " 

"And  Slade?"  said  Beecher. 

"If  Slade  took  it,  we're  losing  our  time.  Aren't 
we?"  said  McKenna. 

"McKenna,  do  you  know?"  said  Gunther  sud 
denly. 

"Unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  I'll  know  in 
twenty-four  hours,"  said  McKenna,  "  I  know  this 
—  who  has  the  ring  and  when  he  had  it,  and  this 
evening,  about  5 130  in  the  afternoon,  I  ought  to 
know  from  the  gentleman  in  question,  who  pawned 
it  —  unless  I  learn  sooner." 

"  Unless  Garraboy  confesses,"  said  Beecher. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  McKenna,  answering  with  a 
nod  an  assistant  who  opened  the  door  at  this  mo 
ment,  "  I'm  not  given  to  boasting,  but  I'll  risk  this." 
He  went  to  the  desk,  wrote  a  name  on  a  card,  sealed 
it  in  an  envelope  and  handed  it  to  Beecher.  "  That's 
the  name  of  the  person  who  took  the  ring.  Keep  it 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  303 

until  it  is  found.  That  sounds  like  Sherlock  Holmes, 
but  there's  one  reason  why  I  feel  like  being  a  little 
stagey ;  and  I  don't  mind  admitting  to  you  that  I  got 
to  it  by  deduction  —  honest  deduction,  though !  " 

"  Why've  you  Garraboy  here,  then  ?  "  said  Beecher, 
while  the  letter  in  his  pocket  seemed  to  radiate  heat 
like  an  ember. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  ?  —  you'll  be  surprised," 
said  McKenna,  going  to  the  desk  again.  "  Well,  it's 
to  convince  myself  that  Garraboy  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  two. 

McKenna  made  them  a  signal  to  be  silent  and, 
taking  up  the  loose  sheets  of  the  different  records, 
started  to  place  them  in  the  drawer;  but  all  at  once 
he  stopped,  selected  one,  the  record  of  the  broker 
himself,  and  laid  it  face  up  on  the  table.  The  next 
moment  the  door  opened  and  Garraboy  came  warily 
into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT  the  sight  of  Beecher  and  Gunther,  Garraboy 
stopped  short,  evidently  nonplused. 

"  I  was  told  to  come  in,"  he  said,  lifting  his  eye 
brows. 

"  Quite  right/'  said  McKenna  briskly,  raising  his 
voice  a  trifle.  From  the  moment  of  the  broker's 
entrance  his  eyes  fastened  on  Garraboy,  never  leav 
ing  him.  "  Come  right  in." 

"I'm  interrupting — "  said  Garraboy  carefully, 
conscious  of  this  set  gaze. 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  I  thought  our  business  w,is  confidential,  Mc 
Kenna,"  he  said,  without  having  moved  from  the  po 
sition  he  had  taken  on  entering.  "  I  fail  to  see  — " 
he  stopped  and  looked  again  at  the  two  young  men. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Beecher  and  Gunther,"  said  McKenna 
affably ;  "  suppose  we  call  them  attorneys  for  one  of 
your  clients." 

"Miss  Charters?" 

"  You're  a  good  guesser,  Mr.  Garraboy." 

The  broker  drew  in  his  upper  lip  and,  coming 
slowly  forward,  said: 

"  The  presence  of  these  gentlemen  is  exceedingly 
distasteful  to  me." 

"  You're  not  in  a  position  to  object,  Mr.  Garra 
boy." 

Garraboy  turned  his  back  and  walked  slowly  back 

304 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  305 

and  forth,  evidently  in  distressed  conjecture,  occa 
sionally  raising  his  head  to  shoot  a  glance  at  the  three, 
half  in  rage,  half  in  fear. 

All  at  once  he  stopped  by  the  desk  as  though  his 
mind  had  come  to  a  certain  decision,  and,  bearing 
heavily  on  it,  said : 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  care,  under  the  circum 
stances,  to  enter  into  any  discussion.  You,  Mr.  Mc- 
Kenna,  represent  my  client,  Mrs.  Alva  White;  your 
claim  against  me  is  for  forty-five  thousand  eight  hun 
dred  and  forty-six  dollars."  He  drew  out  his  pocket- 
book.  "  I  have  here  a  check  made  to  your  order." 
A  second  time  he  plunged  his  hand  into  his  pocket 
and  brought  out  a  check-book.  "  I  was  not  notified 
that  Miss  Charters'  was  also  under  discussion.  How 
ever,  I  will  settle  that  at  once.  To  whose  order, 
please  ?  " 

McKenna,  without  answering,  indicated  himself 
with  a  jerk  of  his  finger. 

Garraboy,  seating  himself  at  the  desk,  took  up  a 
pen  and  carefully  filled  in  the  check,  blotted  it  and 
handed  the  two  drafts  to  McKenna,  who  took  them, 
endorsed  them  and,  ringing,  handed  them  to  an  as 
sistant  : 

"  Present  these  at  once.  Telephone  me  as  soon  as 
they  are  honored." 

Garraboy  carefully  blotted  the  check-book  in  turn, 
replaced  it  in  his  pocket,  and  was  thrusting  back  his 
chair  from  the  desk  when  McKenna,  turning  on  him 
sharply,  said: 

"  Garraboy,  you  stole  that  ring  of  Mrs.  Kildair's." 

The  broker,  startled,  jerked  up  his  head. 


306  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  So  that's  the  meaning  of  all  this! "  he  said  an 
grily. 

"  Answer  my  question !  " 

But  this  time  Garraboy,  without  wincing,  rose 
suddenly  to  his  feet. 

"  McKenna,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you," 
he  said,  scowling,  "  on  this  or  any  other  question. 
Your  claims  are  satisfied.  I  recognize  no  further 
right  of  you  to  insult  me/' 

"  Don't  move,  Mr.  Garraboy,"  said  McKenna 
softly ;  "  we've  a  lot  of  business  still  to  talk  over." 

"Are  you  trying  to  blackmail  me?"  said  Garra 
boy  furiously,  folding  his  arms. 

"  Garraboy,  I've  got  the  goods  on  you  and  there 
may  be  a  paper  or  two  in  my  pocket  you  wouldn't 
care  to  have  served,"  said  McKenna,  the  pupils  of 
his  'eyes  seeming  to  dwindle  to  a  point  as  the  whites 
showed  under  a  well-simulated  show  of  anger. 
"  First  place,  you're  going  to  sit  here  until  I  get  a  tele 
phone  those  checks  are  cashed.  Second,  and  this  may 
surprise  you,  you're  going  to  stick  right  by  me  —  to 
day  and  tonight,  until  you  make  up  your  mind 
whether  you'll  answer  me  or  answer  a  court  of  jus 
tice.  Third,  before  we  get  through  here,  I  want  your 
name  at  the  bottom  of  a  little  document  I've  drawn 
up  for  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Garraboy,  but  with 
a  note  of  apprehension  in  his  voice. 

"  A  plain,  honest  recital  of  what  you've  been  doing 
with  other  folks'  property  these  last  two  months  — " 

"  You  said  — "  fairly  screamed  the  broker. 

"  I  said  if  vou  settled  my  claims  I  wouldn't  prose- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  307 

cute  —  true,  and  I  won't.  But  just  the  same  you're 
getting  out  of  business  here  in  New  York,  and  I'm 
going  to  hold  a  paper  that'll  keep  you  out." 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  Garraboy  in  desperation. 
"  Every  cent  I  owe  will  be  settled  in  twenty-four 
hours.  I'll  close  up  every  account  —  I'll  agree  to 
that  —  but  I'll  not  be  blackmailed  into  this.  You 
haven't  a  charge  against  me  that'll  stand  in  any 
court  in  this  country  — " 

"  What  about  that  ring?  "  said  McKenna.  "  You 
were  trying  all  over  town  to  raise  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  that  day.  Garraboy,  you  stole  that  ring, 
pawned  it,  and  raised  the  money  to  hold  off  your 
loans." 

"  That's  a  lie!"  he  said,  clenching  his  fists.  "I 
got  it  —" 

"Where?" 

"  None  of  your  business." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  money  to  pay  your  inter 
est  and  to  put  up  the  new  margins  you  did  ?  " 

"  I  was  acting  for  others." 

"What  others?" 

Garraboy  opened  his  mouth  to  reply  and  then  sud 
denly  stopped. 

McKenna  said  immediately: 

"  No,  you  won't  say  what  others,  because  if  you 
do  claim  you  sold  for  others,  here  before  witnesses, 
you  know  you'll  restore  a  good  deal  more  money 
than  you  figured  out  to  disgorge.  Oh,  you're  clever 
all  right.  Answer  me  —  did  you  steal  that  ring?" 

"I  did  not,"  said  Garraboy  suddenly;  "and  I 
don't  know  anything  more  about  it  than  Beecher 


308  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

here  —  in  fact,  considerably  less."  He  looked  over 
with  a  sneer  on  his  lips  and  then  quickly  and  firmly 
exclaimed :  "  McKenna,  my  mind's  made  up.  I'm 
going  out  that  door  —  now.  If  you  attempt  to  pre 
vent  me,  I'll  hold  Mr.  Beecher  and  Mr.  Gunther  here 
as  witnesses  that  you  kept  me  here  by  force.  And 
I'll  have  you  up  on  — " 

All  at  once  he  seemed  to  choke  on  a  word  as  his 
eyes,  following  the  movement  of  the  fist  that  struck 
the  table,  came  suddenly  in  contact  with  the  upturned 
sheet  entitled : 

"  GARRABOY,  EDWARD  V." 

The  sight  seemed  to  paralyze  every  muscle  of  his 
body.  He  sat  down  abruptly,  drawing  the  document 
under  his  eye. 

"  Take  your  time,  Bracken,  read  it  over  carefully," 
said  McKenna  in  a  soothing  voice.  He  retired  to 
the  fireplace  and  relaxed  into  the  easy  chair  awaiting 
the  moment. 

Garraboy  read  hastily,  fairly  galloping  through  the 
pages.  Then  he  stiffened  in  his  chair,  frowned  and 
read  carefully  through  it  all  again,  considering  each 
phrase. 

At  the  last,  the  three  who  watched  him  saw  him 
push  the  paper  from  him,  lock  his  hands  in  front  of 
him  and  stare  at  McKenna.  The  correct,  insolent 
man  of  the  world  had  faded;  instead,  before  them, 
bare  to  the  bone,  was  the  rascal,  the  desperate,  clever 
adventurer.  Suddenly  making  a  quick  resolve,  he 
said  in  a  tone  that  surprised  them  for  its  absence  of 
emotion : 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  309 

j 

"  Give  me  the  paper  I'm  to  sign." 

McKenna  jumped  up  and  going  to  a  shelf  took 
down  an  affidavit. 

"  It  is  always  a  pleasure  to  deal  with  profession," 
he  said  genially,  placing  the  document  on  the  table. 
"  Oh,  read  it  first." 

Garraboy  skimmed  through  it  hastily,  nodding. 
He  took  up  his  pen  and  paused. 

"  It's  understood  that  the  contents  will  never  be 
made  public,  directly  or  indirectly,  so  long  as  I  keep 
out  of  the  United  States  ?  " 

"  Understood." 

"  Your  word  of  honor  on  it  as  a  gentleman,  Mc 
Kenna?" 

"  My  word." 

"  And  yours,  too,  Mr.  Beecher,  Mr.  Gunther?  " 

Each  repeated  the  promise  in  turn. 

Garraboy  signed  the  confession  and  handed  it  to 
McKenna. 

"What  now?" 

"  You  will,  of  course,  wind  up  your  business  im 
mediately." 

"  I  will  telephone  for  my  clerk  to  bring  my  books 
here  at  once  for  your  inspection.  I  will  draw  the 
necessary  checks  and  have  them  deposited  to  the 
credit  of  my  clients  this  afternoon.  One  of  your 
men  can  personally  assure  himself  that  everything  is 
right.  Will  that  satisfy  you?  " 

"  Couldn't  have  proposed  anything  more  practical," 
said  McKenna,  nodding. 

"What  next?" 

"  Clean  up  that  matter  of  the  ring." 


310  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

Garraboy  rose  impatiently, 

"  I  haven't  got  the  ring." 

"  I  don't  believe  you/' 

"  Are  you  going  to  keep  me  under  surveillance  ?  *v 

"  I  am." 

"Until  when?" 

"  Until  the  ring  is  returned." 

"  McKenna,"  said  Garraboy  desperately,  "  I  think 
IVe  satisfied  you.  I'm  not  standing  on  technicalities. 
You've  got  me  cold.  I  know  it.  Now,  I'll  tell  you 
just  how  I  stand.  When  everything  is  paid  up,  I 
stand  pretty  nearly  $200,000  to  the  good.  I'm  going 
to  get  out  —  go  abroad  and  stay  there,  and  I  want  to 
catch  the  first  boat  out.  If  I  had  that  ring,  I'd  throw 
it  over,  quick.  That's  straight  goods." 

"  Garraboy,  did  you  steal  that  ring?  "  said  Mc 
Kenna  again. 

"  I  did  not."  He  took  a  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket  and  wiped  away  the  perspiration  which  stood 
on  his  forehead. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  before  the  detective,  John 
Ryan,  whom  Mrs.  Kildair  called  in?" 

Garraboy  hesitated. 

"Did  you?" 

"  Yes." 

"Employed  him?" 

"  Yes." 

"Many  times?" 

"  Several." 

"And  you  recommended  him  to  Mrs.  Kildair?" 

"  Yes." 

"  So  you  knew  whom  she  would  call  in  ?  " 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  311 

"  No,  I  didn't  think  of  that." 

"  Garraboy,  didn't  you  take  the  ring  knowing  that 
Ryan  would  be  called  in  and  that  he  would  never 
make  a  search  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not." 

"  Do  you  know  who  took  it?  " 

"  No." 

"  That's  sufficient,"  said  McKenna,  apparently 
satisfied. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Garraboy 
nervously. 

"  Keep  you  on  a  rope  until  the  ring  turns  up." 

"  I  want  to  get  away,"  said  Garraboy  weakly. 

"  I  know  that." 

The  broker  remained  quiet  a  moment,  turning  a 
pencil  with  his  moist  fingers. 

"  Will  you  answer  one  question  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"What?" 

"  Does  Mrs.  Kildair  know  —  are  you  acting  for 
her?" 

"  Mrs.  Kildair  does  not  know  what  I'm  doing," 
said  McKenna  quietly. 

Garraboy  rose  with  what  seemed  a  little  relief,  a 
movement  that  McKenna  was  quick  to  note. 

"  Well,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  tell  you  what  I 
know,"  he  said,  after  a  few  nervous  steps. 

"  Good." 

"  I  haven't  got  the  ring,"  he  said  carefully. 

"Did  you  take  it?" 

"  I  did  not  take  it,"  said  Garraboy,  looking  stead 
ily  in  McKenna's  eyes. 

"But  you  know?" 


312  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Yes,  in  a  way  I  know,"  he  said  firmly.  "  A 
woman  took  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

Garraboy  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  seemed 
reluctant  to  continue,  frowning  and  moving  restlessly 
from  foot  to  foot.  Finally  he  blurted  out : 

"  I  don't  know  who  took  it  first,  but  this  is  what 
happened  —  the  God's  truth.  When  Mrs.  Kildair 
put  out  the  lights  and  counted  sixty-one,  I  heard  the 
ring  on  the  table."  He  hesitated  a  moment  and  said 
hurriedly :  "  I  made  up  my  mind  to  give  them  all  a 
shock.  I  did  not  intend  to  keep  the  ring ;  I  swear  it. 
I  put  out  my  hand  to  take  it  —  and  I  touched  another 
hand  —  the  hand  of  a  woman." 

"Who  took  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Was  that  woman  Mrs.  Cheever,  or  Miss  Lille  ?  " 
said  McKenna  quickly. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  know." 

"  No." 

"You  have  no  idea?" 

"  No." 

"  No  suspicion  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  were  told  nothing  afterward?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Garraboy,  it's  just  possible  you're  not  lying," 
said  McKenna  with  a  frown ;  "  though  I'm  not  sure 
by  a  long  shot.  However,  I'll  know  the  truth  before 
the  sun  goes  down." 

"  How  ?  "  said  Garraboy,  looking  up. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  313 

"  I  neglected  to  tell  you/'  said  McKenna,  watching 
him,  "  that  I  know  whom  the  ring  was  pawned  with, 
and  this  evening  the  gentleman  himself  will  tell  me 
who  pawned  it.  The  time  I  keep  you  depends  a  good 
deal  on  what  he  says/' 

"  Then,  this  evening  I  will  be  free,"  said  Garraboy 
joyfully,  with  such  evident  confidence  that  both 
young  men  were  struck  by  it  and  McKenna,  a  little 
disturbed  in  his  theory,  continued  staring  at  the  face 
of  Garraboy,  which  was  illumined  with  a  slight,  ma 
licious  smile. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

HALF  an  hour  later  Gunther  and  Beecher,  leav 
ing  McKenna's  office  with  a  promise  to  return 
that  evening,  went  up  town.  In  Beecher's  pocket 
was  a  check  on  McKenna  representing  the  amount  of 
Miss  Charters'  account.  Garraboy  remained  in  the 
custody  of  the  detective. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?  "  said  Gunther. 

"  I  think  Garraboy  lied,"  said  Beecher. 

"  Oh,  about  the  reason  he  tried  to  take  the  ring  — 
yes,  naturally.  He  could  make  a  plausible  reason 
for  that  —  you'd  hardly  expect  him  to  say  in  so  many 
words  that  he  was  a  thief,  if  he  really  didn't  get  the 
ring,  as  he  says." 

"  I  think  he  cooked  up  the  lie  right  there,"  said 
Beecher  obstinately.  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of 
it." 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  sort  of  think  he  told  the  truth." 

"  Do  you  think  any  woman  would  have  the  nerve 
to  go  on  after  she  had  felt  a  hand  on  hers  and  knew 
that  some  one  had  a  clue,  not  absolutely  definite  but 
almost  so?" 

"  But,  Ted,  if  any  one  denounced  her,  wouldn't  he 
have  to  acknowledge  the  fact  of  his  own  motive? 
That  would  be  enough  to  shut  any  one  up." 

"  I  think  Garraboy  lied,"  persisted  Beecher.  "  I 
think  he  had  a  part  in  the  theft  and  at  least  I  am 
sure  he  knows  all  about  it." 

314 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  315 

"  Listen  to  reason,"  said  Gunther  warmly.  "  If 
Garraboy  signed  a  confession  like  McKenna  handed 
him,  he  wouldn't  stop  at  returning  a  ring  —  particu 
larly  when  he  knows  that  McKenna  will  keep  hold  of 
him  till  the  affair  is  closed  up.  No,  no;  Garraboy 
says  he's  cleared  $200,000  —  you  may  be  sure  he's 
got  considerably  more.  He's  satisfied.  He  wants 
to  get  away  from  here  quick.  McKenna's  not  the 
only  one  on  his  track,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  No, 
it  doesn't  stand  to  reason  he'd  balk  at  a  little  matter 
like  the  ring." 

Beecher  was  silent,  digesting  the  argument. 

"  There  may  be  one  explanation,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  You  noticed  that  the  fellow  was  particularly  anx 
ious  to  know  if  Mrs.  Kildair  was  behind  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  all  that." 

"  Now  McKenna  thinks,  and  I  do  too,  that  Mrs. 
Kildair  all  along  has  known  who  took  the  ring  and 
has  only  been  held  up  before  this  from  prosecuting 
on  account  of  a  possible  scandal." 

"  But,  that's  over  now  —  nothing  can  be  said  —  it 
was  an  engagement  ring,  of  course." 

"  Exactly ;  and  that's  the  reason  why  I'm  going  to 
make  this  guess  —  that  Garraboy,  knowing  the  game 
was  up,  returned  the  ring  this  morning." 

"By  George!" 

"  And  that's  the  reason  he  told  the  lie  he  did  — 
knowing  that  everything  will  blow  over  in  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"  Ted,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  I  believe  you've  hit  it !  " 
said  Gunther  excitedly.  "  I  say  — " 

"What?" 


316  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Let's  go  up  to  your  rooms  —  there  may  be  a  let 
ter  from  Mrs.  Kildair." 

Full  of  eagerness  they  went  to  Beecher 's  rooms  — 
only  to  return  empty-handed  and  disappointed.  Then 
they  hurried  to  the  club  and  searched  the  letter-boxes 
without  success. 

Disappointed  and  impatient  they  went  in  to  a  late 
lunch. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  that  check  of 
Miss  Charters'  ? "  said  Gunther  in  an  aggressive 
tone. 

"  Take  it  round  to  her,"  said  Beecher,  looking  at 
him  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"  Mail  it" 

"Why?" 

"  Gratitude  and  a  pretty  woman  are  a  dangerous 
combination,"  said  Gunther  gruffly ;  "  especially  for 
something  soft  like  you." 

"  You  damned,  impertinent  cuss,"  said  Beecher 
acridly. 

"  Fact.  Better  let  me  call  a  messenger  boy  and 
send  it  around." 

But  in  the  pleased  state  of  mind  in  which  he  was, 
Beecher  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  surrender 
ing  the  delightful  opportunity  which  the  visit  prom 
ised.  Likewise,  he  was  indignant  at  hearing  from 
Gunther  the  same  implications  which  amused  him 
from  the  lips  of  a  fascinating  woman  like  Emma 
Fornez. 

"  You've  got  a  fine  idea  of  me,"  he  answered 
hotly. 

"  I  have." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  317 

"According  to  you,  I  oughtn't  to  be  allowed  to 
roam  the  streets  without  a  keeper." 

"  Exactly  expressed." 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself/'  said  Beecher  in  a  lofty, 
superior  tone,  and,  believing  every  word,  he  added, 
"  I'm  quite  able  to  take  care  of  myself.  I  know 
how  to  amuse  myself  —  and  I  know  it  is  amusing 
myself,  thank  you.  You  think  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  women  —  well,  I  know  better  than  some 
people  how  to  keep  my  head  straight." 

"  So  you're  going  around  ?  "  said  Gunther  with  a 
grin. 

"  I  am." 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  had  never  met  any  one 
who  could  make  you  so  angry  ?  " 

"  Come  and  get  me  at  five  o'clock,"  said  Beecher, 
with  a  trifling  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  I  begin  to  have  my  doubts,"  said  Gunther  slowly, 
with  the  air  of  one  steeling  himself  against  a  great 
calamity. 

Beecher  had  no  such  anticipation  as  he  went  lightly 
out  of  the  club  and  took  his  way  up  the  Avenue. 
For  the  last  day  he  had  thought  much  more  of  the 
possible  feelings  of  Nan  Charters  toward  his  own 
receptive  person  than  of  analyzing  the  impregnabil 
ity  of  his  own  position.  He  had  not  telephoned,  de 
siring  to  effect  a  little  surprise.  But  as  he  neared 
his  destination  he  remembered  that  she  might  possi 
bly  be  out. 

"  In  that  case  I'll  leave  a  little  note  —  just  a  line 
with  the  check  —  as  though  it  were  a  casual  affair," 
he  said  to  himself. 


318  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

But  Miss  Charters  was  in.  An  automobile  was  at 
the  curb  which  he  thought  he  recognized. 

Miss  Charters  herself  answered  the  door,  detain 
ing  him  a  moment  in  the  anteroom. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
but  one  in  which  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  the 
pleasure.  "  I  wanted  you  to  know  that.  A  friend 
of  yours  is  here  —  but  he  won't  stay  long,"  she  added 
softly,  with  that  gentle  appeal  in  her  voice  against 
which  he  knew  no  defense.  "  You'll  stay  —  I  want 
you  to." 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Lorraine."  And  as  she  saw  the  instant 
stiffening  that  went  through  him,  she  said  quickly, 
with  that  subtle,  merciless  flattery  of  which  only 
women  have  the  command,  "  Shall  I  send  him  away 
—  if  you  wish?  " 

"  No." 

The  two  men  greeted  each  other  boisterously,  but 
underneath  their  heartiness  was  a  sudden  sense  of  in 
vaded  territory. 

"Is  he  interested?"  thought  Lorraine,  with  an 
uneasy  glance.  "  And  why  did  she  go  out  into  the 
hall?" 

"  What's  his  right  here  ?  Was  he  here  to  lunch, 
I  wonder?"  thought  Beecher,  and  for  the  first  time 
he  felt  something  hot  surging  inside  of  himself. 

Each  with  an  extra  show  of  cordiality  began  to 
talk,  addressing  their  remarks  to  the  other.  Only 
Lorraine,  whose  tenancy  was  thus  threatened,  con 
tinued  to  prolong  his  stay,  anxiously  watching  the 
effect  on  the  woman.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hourf 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  319 

he  no  longer  doubted,  she  was  only  waiting  for  him 
to  go,  uneasy  and  resentful  at  his  delay. 

He  rose,  heavy  of  heart,  and  shook  hands  with 
Beecher,  whom  he  would  have  liked  to  throttle,  and, 
nodding  to  Miss  Charters,  went  toward  the  hall, 
hoping  that  she  would  follow  him.  But  women  in 
love  match  the  wordless  surrender  and  tenderness 
they  show  to  the  man  to  whom  they  yield  with  an 
equal  cruelty  toward  those  whose  misfortune  is  to 
have  loved  them.  She  did  not  move,  waiting  impa 
tiently  until  she  heard  the  tardy  click  of  the  door. 
Then  she  went  to  him  directly,  standing  quite  close, 
looking  up  at  him  like  a  penitent  schoolgirl. 

"  I  thought  he'd  never  go/'  she  said  impatiently, 
and  then  with  an  uneasy,  searching  look  in  her  eyes, 
she  said  contritely :  "  Do  you  think  I  am  very  terri 
ble?" 

He  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  but  without  profit 
ing  by  the  opportunity  her  attitude  invited. 

"  You  were  engaged  to  Charlie  once,  weren't 
you?  "  he  said,  trying  to  give  the  question  an  accent 
of  natural  curiosity. 

"  No,  never." 

"Almost?" 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently  at  the  introduc 
tion  of  this  topic. 

"  People  said  so." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  But  he  is  in  love  with  you,"  he  said  positively. 

What  she  did  not  like  was  the  quiet,  inconsequen 
tial  way  he  spoke,  for  in  her  own  mood  she  did  not 
detect  the  jealousy  underneath. 


320  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Please  don't  let  us  talk  of  Mr.  Lorraine,"  she 
said  quickly.  "  I  have  never  been  engaged  to  Mr. 
Lorraine  and  never  could;  first,  because  I  don't  in 
tend  to  marry,  and,  second,  because  if  I  did,  Mr. 
Lorraine  could  never  appeal  to  me." 

She  broke  off  and  going  to  the  telephone  said  to 
him  over  her  shoulder : 

"You're  not  in  a  hurry?" 

"  No." 

"  Good  —  then  we  need  not  be  interrupted." 

She  called  the  office  and  left  word  that  she  would 
not  be  at  home.  Then,  rising,  she  came  slowly  back, 
very  subdued,  still  alarmed  at  the  undisturbed  friend 
ship  in  his  look. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  come  to  see  such  a  lit 
tle  virago,"  she  said  softly. 

"  I  came  to  see  you  on  a  matter  of  business,"  he 
said,  without  thinking  of  his  words. 

Her  face  fell. 

"  Oh,  indeed." 

He  drew  out  his  pocketbook  and  took  out  the 
check. 

"  Mr.  Garraboy  is  leaving  very  suddenly  for  Eu 
rope,"  he  said,  turning  over  the  bit  of  paper.     "  He 
has  decided  to  wind  up  his  affairs.     He  wished  me 
•  to  give  you  this  check  in  settlement  of  your  account," 
I  with  him. 

i      She  stood  quite  still,  her  arms  behind  her  back,  but 
her  eyes  dangerously  brilliant. 

"If  it's  only  on  business  you  came,"  she  said, 
breathing  deep,  "  you  can  keep  your  check." 

«  But  — " 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  321 

"  Is  it  only  on  business  you  go  to  see  other 
women  ?  " 

He  extended  the  check,  and  the  jealousy  Lorraine's 
presence  had  brought  him  made  him  seek  to  hurt  her 
a  little  more. 

"  Don't  be  unreasonable,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  don't  answer,"  she  said,  stamping  her 
foot,  "  I  will  tear  it  into  pieces !  " 

A  quick,  impulsive  joy  went  through  him  at  this 
revealing  anger. 

"  I  came  because  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  he  said 
with  a  provoking  delight  in  his  eyes.  "  This  is  of 
no  importance." 

She  took  the  check,  still  looking  at  him,  became 
calmer,  smiled,  and  then  with  a  determined  bob  of 
her  head,  went  to  place  it  on  her  writing-desk.  All 
at  once  she  turned  quickly: 

"  But  this  is  signed  McKenna!  " 

"  That's  a  detail." 

"  Your  friend  McKenna,  the  detective  ?  Then  you 
forced  this  out  of  him?  " 

"  It  wasn't  very  hard." 

She  let  the  check  flutter  from  her  fingers  to  the 
desk,  thoughtfully  considering  it,  divining  slowly 
what  it  meant. 

"  I  am  unreasonable,"  she  said  quietly,  returning 
and  holding  out  her  hand.  "  Thank  you.  Why  did 
you  bother  —  after  the  way  I  acted?  " 

"  Well,  just  because,"  he  answered,  looking  down 
into  her  eyes. 

"  So,  Garraboy  is  a  defaulter,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  any  more." 


32£  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

All  at  once  a  thought  came  to  her  and  an  anxious 
frown  passed  over  her  forehead. 

"  None  of  this  is  your  money?  "  she  said  quickly. 

"No." 

"  On  your  honor?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  you  have  done  for  me,"  she 
said  solemnly.  "  I  am  very  grateful." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said  lightly.  "  It  was  no  trouble. 
I  would  have  done  it  for  any  one." 

They  were  near  the  great  dormer-windows,  high 
above  the  threaded  smoke  and  gray  roofs  of  the 
city,  now  blending  into  fuzzy  masses  with  the  clos 
ing  of  the  day. 

"  Well,  now  that  your  business  is  over,"  she  said, 
but  with  a  new  lightness,  "  I  suppose  you  must  be 
going?" 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  say  ?  "  he  said,  smiling 
with  a  growing  feeling  of  well-being. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?  "  she  repeated  maliciously, 
and,  half-laughing,  half-determined,  she  took  the 
lapel  of  his  coat  in  a  gesture  which,  in  her  ringers, 
was  almost  a  caress.  She  stood  looking  up  at  him, 
so  happy,  so  brimming  with  the  satisfaction  of  hav 
ing  him  back,  of  regaining  what  she  had  feared  to 
lose,  that  he  could  not  resist  the  desire  in  her  eyes. 

"  Because  I  like  you,"  he  said. 

"  Despite  my  tantrums  and  my  moods?  " 

"  On  account  of  them." 

"  And  would  you  have  done  what  you  did  —  for 
any  one  ?  " 

"  Come  to  think  of  it  —  no." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  323 

She  was  not  content.  She  would  rather  that  he 
had  answered  more  sentimentally.  She  felt  that  he 
was  stronger  than  she  was,  more  controlled. 

"  Are  you  interested  in  Emma  Fornez? "  she  said, 
looking  away  from  him. 

"  Oh,—  interested." 

"You  like  her?" 

"  Yes,  very  much/' 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  have  you  talked  about." 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  What  have  I  done  that  displeases  you,  Teddy?  " 
she  said  all  at  once. 

But  before  he  could  answer,  the  room  behind  them 
dropped  suddenly  back  into  darkness. 

"  The  light's  gone  out,"  she  said,  startled,  her  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  The  current's  cut  —  that's  all,"  he  answered. 

"  I'll  light  a  lamp." 

"  No.  It's  good  here.  Wait.  It'll  only  be  a  mo 
ment." 

They  remained  in  the  dark,  turning  their  glances 
out  of  the  window,  suddenly  conscious  of  the  pano 
rama  of  the  evening,  the  stir  of  departing  multitudes, 
the  end  of  labor  and  the  evening  of  rest. 

"  How  plainly  you  can  see,"  he  said.  "  That's 
Brooklyn  Bridge,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

At  the  east  three  giant  spans  stood  out  across  the 
unreal  gray  view  that  had  neither  banks  nor  green 
approaches,  that  cut  its  way  like  an  invading  flood 
through  thf  cities.  Innumerable,  cottony  puffs  of 
steam,  busy,  hurrying,  restless,  rose  from  unseen 


324  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

hulls  across  the  fading  silhouettes  of  tangled  spans. 
High  to  the  south  from  a  cyclopean  tower  a  single  ball 
of  fire  was  shining.  Below,  in  the  long,  straight 
avenues,  the  city  was  putting  on  its  necklaces  of  bril 
liants;  and  from  the  black  dotted  masses  that  must 
be  there  somewhere  in  the  growing  obscurity,  rush 
ing  home  over  the  backs  of  the  waters,  high  above 
housetops  or  deep  through  the  bowels  of  the  city,  a 
great  sigh  seemed  to  rise  with  the  sudden  freshening 
of  the  twilight  breeze,  and  the  two  human  beings 
who  looked  down,  as  God  looks  down  on  this  specta 
cle  of  a  moving  world,  found  nothing  to  express  the 
sudden  melancholy  that  troubled  them,  awakening 
vague  desires,  stirring  them  with  the  feeling  of  their 
own  littleness. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  turning  away  the  first,  and, 
lingering,  looking  back,  placed  a  hand  on  his  arm, 
repeating,  "  Come." 

He  did  not  reply,  looking  beyond,  deeply  pene 
trated  by  all  this  humanity  that  each  moment  receded 
farther  from  them,  isolating  them,  lifting  them  above 
the  world  into  the  loneliness  of  the  skies.  Her  hand 
remained  on  his  arm  unconsciously,  but  this  weight 
so  soft  but  yet  so  imperious  recalled  him  to  himself. 
He  thought  no  longer  of  what  lay  without.  He 
looked  at  her.  She  was  trembling.  He  too  felt  the 
subtle,  disturbing  restlessness  of  this  dark  that 
closed  in  about  them,  shutting  out  the  peopled  world 
—  this  mood  of  the  day  that  exerts  over  human  be 
ings  such  a  compelling  desire. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He  could  not  see 
her  face  distinctly,  only  the  eyes  —  that  seemed  in- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  325 

capable  of  seeing  all  but  this.  Then  abruptly, 
brusquely,  by  the  same  mutual  impulse,  they 
were  in  each  other's  arms,  straining  to  each  other, 
their  lips  irresistibly  closed  over  each  other,  feeling 
themselves  more  and  more  wrapped  around  by  this 
soft  darkness  that  had  cast  them  up,  enfolding 
their  loneliness  in  the  great  protective  instinct  of  hu 
man  love. 

The  room  flared  up  brilliantly.  She  recovered 
herself  the  first,  drawing  herself  out  of  his  arms, 
covering  her  face  with  fingers  that  still  throbbed  with 
the  agony  of  their  embrace. 

They  could  not  look  at  each  other,  bewildered  by 
the  suddenness  of  what  had  happened.  She  went 
past  him  hurriedly  to  the  fireplace,  sitting  down 
He  followed  irresolutely,  feeling  his  feet  unsteady 
beneath  him,  all  the  intellectual  forces  within  him 
submerged,  drunk,  overthrown  by  the  sudden,  deliri 
ous  awakening  of  his  senses,  suddenly  aroused  by  this 
revelation  of  woman. 

"  What  have  we  done  ?  What  was  it  ?  "  she  said 
breathlessly,  without  facing  him.  "  We  are  crazy, 
Teddy,—  crazy ! " 

He  came  heavily  to  the  other  end  of  the  fireplace, 
leaning  on  the  mantel,  looking  down  at  the  woman 
who  was  no  longer  an  indefinite  mystery  of  silks  and 
colors,  but  a  moving,  living  body  that  had  stirred  in 
his  arms. 

"  Teddy,  we  are  crazy/'  she  repeated.  "  What 
possessed  us  ?  " 

"  It  is  you  who  are  crazy  now,"  he  said  abruptly. 
"  What  is  the  use  of  arguing?  Those  things  are  be- 


326  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

yond  us.     It  is  over  —  it  is  settled.     We  had  noth 
ing  to  do  with  it." 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried  vigorously,  jumping  up.  "  It 
is  not  right.  It  isn't  fair  to  you.  We  were  swept 
off  our  feet." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  yes." 

"  But  it's  impossible,  it's  crazy  —  it's  senseless.  I 
don't  want  to  marry,  I  don't  want  to  fall  in  love.  I 
want  to  be  free  —  I  must  be  free  —  I  know  that  — 
you  know  that.  So  what  then  ?  " 

"  What's  the  use  of  arguing?  It's  been  settled 
for  us." 

"  But  it  isn't  settled.  I  lost  my  head  —  you  lost 
your  head.  We  didn't  know  what  we  were  doing. 
Marriage  is  impossible,  absurd.  I'm  not  a  woman  to 
marry  —  you  would  be  unhappy  —  don't  you  see  how 
ridiculous  it  is?  I  think  only  of  myself  —  my  ca 
reer  — " 

"  What's  all  that  amount  to  —  you  love  me  and  I 
love  you.  It's  always  been  so  —  we've  been  fools 
and  I  didn't  know  it." 

"  But  I  don't  know  it,"  she  cried ;  but  at  the  same 
breath  she  knew  that  it  was  so.  But  this  knowledge 
only  roused  in  her  the  spirit  to  combat,  to  remit,  to 
put  away  from  her  the  threatening  obstacle. 

"  Nonsense.  Why  didn't  you  let  me  go?  You 
wouldn't ;  you  brought  me  back ;  you  couldn't  help  it 
—  and  I  came.  I  would  have  come  if  you  had  called 
me.  I've  said  all  that  you  say  myself  —  what  good 
did  it  do  me?  Here  I  am!  " 

"  Well,  then  —  yes,  we  may  love  each  other,"  she 
said  desperately.  "  I  don't  know.  I  cannot  reason  it 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  327 

out  — it  may  be  so,  perhaps  —  but  even  then  ?  Teddy, 
it  can't  go  on.  Don't  you  see  how  wicked  it  would 
be  —  how  wrong?  Your  wife  can't  be  on  the  stage, 
and  I  can't  give  it  up.  It's  everything  —  it's  been 
my  whole  life.  We  must  be  strong  —  we  must  stop 
it.  It's  absurd  —  it's  wrong." 

She  came  to  him,  seized  with  the  two  contrary  im 
pulses:  an  instinctive  revolt,  a  desire  to  force  him 
from  her  life,  and  something  just  as  instinctive  and 
irresistible  that  drew  her  back  to  him;  and  at  the 
moment  she  said  the  most  firmly,  "  No,  no,  it's  absurd, 
it's  wrong/'  she  put  out  her  hand  and  caught  her 
fingers  in  his  coat  collar,  just  behind  his  ear,  under 
the  masses  of  his  hair. 

He  caught  her  to  him,  wrapping  his  arms  around 
her;  she  continued  to  protest  but,  without  resisting, 
her  head  dropped  on  his  shoulder,  her  eyes  closed, 
her  lips  breathlessly  open. 

All  at  once  from  the  hall  came  the  sound  of  a  key 
in  the  latch.  They  disengaged  themselves  hurriedly, 
arranging  their  disordered  hair,  standing  ridiculously 
apart. 

From  the  antechamber  came  the  voice  of  Miss 
Tilbury,  the  chaperon,  discreetly  remaining  without: 

"  Nan,  dear,  Mr.  Hargrave  is  below.  He  has 
come  for  his  manuscript." 

"  But  I'm  not  at  home,"  she  said  in  a  muffled 
voice. 

"  You  ought  to  send  it  down  to  him,  really." 

"  Mr.  Beecher  is  here  —  aren't  you  coming  in  ?  " 

"  In  a  moment." 

The  steps  died  out  going  to  the  back.     Beecher, 


328  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

who  had  looked  at  the  clock,  uttered  an  exclamation. 
She  came  to  him  quickly,  with  the  motions  of  the 
alert  feline,  and  seizing  his  wrist  said  quickly : 

"  Listen,  Teddy,  I  will  not  hold  you  to  what  has 
happened.  We  are  out  of  our  senses,  you  and  I. 
We  are  crazy  —  crazy.  You  must  not  see  me  for  a 
while  —  two  days  at  least  —  until  we  know  what  we 
are  doing.  Go,  now,  please  — " 

Then,  suddenly  remembering  that  the  same  Har- 
grave  had  been  the  innocent  cause  of  a  little  pain  to 
him,  she  went  quickly  to  the  table  and  took  up  the 
offending  play,  and  with  that  fine  instinct  of  a  woman 
to  give  even  the  smallest  revenge  to  the  man  she  loves, 
said: 

"  Take  this.  Give  it  to  Hargrave  yourself.  Say 
I  cannot  see  him." 

"  I  shall  see  you  tomorrow." 

"  No,  no ;  but  telephone  tonight." 

She  listened  a  moment,  her  ear  toward  the  hall 
like  a  child,  and  then  sprang  into  his  arms,  and  this 
time  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  she,  not  he,  who 
dominated  the  embrace. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AT  half-past  five,  Beecher,  his  brain  in  a  whirl, 
arrived  breathlessly  at  the  office  of  McKenna. 
As  luck  would  have  it,  only  Gunther  and  the  detective 
were  there. 

"  My  friend  is  a  little  late,"  said  McKenna,  with 
a  quick,  jerky  glance  at  the  clock. 

"Where's  Garraboy?" 

"  Twirling  his  thumbs  in  another  room,"  said  Gun 
ther,  laughing.  "  In  a  cussing  bad  humor,  too." 

For  the  second  time,  McKenna  glanced  nervously 
at  the  clock.  Beecher  was  struck  with  the  mood  of 
restlessness  that  obsessed  him.  He  passed  aimlessly 
from  desk  to  window  and  back  again,  apparently  ob 
livious  to  their  presence,  immersed  in  some  calcula 
tion  that  left  its  outward  mark  in  a  deep  furrow  be 
tween  the  eyebrows,  while  the  cigar  between  his  lips 
had  gone  out  unperceived. 

"  Mr.  Beecher,"  he  said  suddenly,  stopping  short, 
"  I'm  not  sure  but  what  I've  gone  off  on  a  ridiculous 
tangent  —  it  may  be  —  it  may  be.  Have  you  still  got 
that  envelope  I  gave  you?  " 

;<  Yes,  in  my  pocket  —  here,"  said  Beecher,  sur 
prised,  laying  his  hand  on  his  coat. 

"  It  was  a  ridiculous  thing  for  me  to  do,"  said 
McKenna  quickly.  He  made  a  movement  of  his 
hand  as  though  to  take  it,  but  repressed  it,  saying: 
"  All  I  ask  is,  don't  open  it  until  I  ask  you."  Then, 

329 


330  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

still  ruffled,  he  turned  away,  saying  to  himself: 
"  Guessing  —  humph !  I'd  fire  a  man  for  doing 
that." 

The  telephone  rang  with  a  message  from  the  outer 
office  and  a  moment  later,  to  the  amazement  of  both 
young  men,  Mapleson,  of  the  firm  of  Sontag  &  Com 
pany,  came  in  smiling  and  businesslike. 

"  How  are  you,  McKenna?  "  he  said  affably,  shak 
ing  hands.  "  Sorry  to  keep  you  waiting.  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

He  was  a  slender,  dark  young  man  of  forty-two 
or  three,  very  graceful,  pleasant  in  voice  and  fluent 
in  manner,  with  a  sure  instinct  for  ingratiating  him 
self  where  it  best  could  serve. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Beecher,"  he  said  on  being 
introduced.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  know  you,  Mr. 
Gunther.  I  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  your 
father  slightly.  The  country  owes  him  a  great  debt 
for  what  he's  done  in  this  panic.  Well,  is  there  any 
mystery  I  can  clear  up  for  you  ?  " 

He  accepted  a  chair,  crossed  his  legs  easily,  brought 
out  a  gold  cigarette-case,  offered  it  with  a  wave  and 
smiled  at  their  declinations. 

"  Why,  yes,  Mr.  Mapleson,  you  can  give  us  a  little 
information,"  said  McKenna. 

"  Anything  I  can  do  for  you,  McKenna,  glad  to  do 
it,"  said  Mapleson. 

"  You  may  remember  a  ring  that  was  sold  by  your 
firm  a  few  months  ago  to  Mr.  John  G.  Slade,"  said 
McKenna  directly ;  "  a  single  ruby,  valued,  I  believe, 
around  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

Mapleson  did  not  avert  his  eyes  from  the  glance 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

of  the  detective,  yet  without  a  movement  of  his  body 
an  instant  change  came  in  his  manner.  He  drew  in 
a  puff  of  smoke,  let  it  out,  nodded  carefully  and 
said: 

"  Yes,  known  as  the  Bogota  ruby.  I  remember 
perfectly." 

"  I  understand  that  that  ring  was  brought  back 
within  the  last  ten  days  and  pledged  for  a  considera 
ble  amount" 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Mapleson.  He  flung  away  the 
half  smoked  cigarette,  and  busied  himself  with  se 
lecting  another.  "  Well,  what  do  you  want  to 
know?" 

"  I  want  to  know  the  name  of  the  person  —  man 
or  woman  —  who  pledged  it." 

Mapleson  changed  his  mind,  shut  the  cigarette- 
case  with  a  snap,  clasped  his  hands  in  front  of  him, 
thumbs  up  and  pressed  against  his  teeth. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  a  little  more  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  McKenna  said  frankly. 

The  eyes  of  the  jeweler  wandered  from  the  detect 
ive  and  settled  on  the  face  of  Beecher.  The  look 
made  the  young  man  flush.  It  was  as  though  the 
smiling,  affable  confidant  of  feminine  mysteries  and 
intrigues  was  asking  himself  what  part  in  all  this  he 
were  playing. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  for  whom  you  are  acting,  Mr. 
Beecher?"  he  said  suddenly. 

McKenna  made  a  gesture  of  warning,  interrupt 
ing: 

"  I'm  sorry  —  we  cannot." 

"  Have  you  a  warrant?  "  continued  Mapleson  seri- 


332  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

ously.  "  In  other  words,  is  this  a  friendly  meeting, 
or  a  legal  procedure?  " 

"  There  is  no  warrant  as  yet.  It  is  a  case  we  par 
ticularly  desire  to  keep  out  of  court,"  said  McKenna. 

"  It  is  very  embarrassing/'  said  Mapleson  frankly, 
"  very.  I  don't  know  quite  how  to  act.  Of  course, 
McKenna,  considering  your  relations  with  our  firm, 
I  should  always  be  glad  to  assist  you  in  any  way  — 
you  understand  that.  The  present  case  is  different. 
The  ring  was  not  pledged  with  Sontag  &  Company, 
but  with  me  personally.  It  is  a  personal  matter  and 
a  very  delicate  one/' 

"  I  understand  that/'  said  McKenna,  frowning. 
"  And  yet  I  must  inform  you  that  I  shall  probably 
have  to  proceed  in  the  usual  manner." 

"  Of  course,  if  I'm  brought  into  court  on  a  sum 
mons,"  said  Mapleson  thoughtfully,  "  that  is  differ 
ent.  If  I  am  faced  by  the  fact  that  a  theft  has  taken 
place,  I  can  do  nothing  else  but  aid  the  law." 

"  But  now  — " 

"  At  present  ?  No,  McKenna,  I  cannot  give  you 
the  name  of  the  person  that  pledged  the  ring  with 
me.  The  case  seems  very  complex  to  me  —  much 
more  than  you  may  believe ;  and  as  nothing  is  legally 
charged  I  prefer  to  keep  my  relations  confidential." 

"  Mr.  Mapleson,  can  you  answer  this  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  Is  your  refusal  because  you  believe  the  intention 
of  the  person  who  pledged  it  is  to  restore  it  to  its 
owner  ?  " 

Mapleson  turned  the  question  over  a  long  time, 
whistling  softly  to  himself.  Finally  he  said: 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  333 

"  I  don't  know.     I  know  nothing." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  amount  you  advanced  on 
the  ring?" 

"  Yes;  I  think  I  can  tell  you  that,"  he  said,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "  I  advanced  twenty-eight 
thousand  dollars." 

"Twenty-eight?"  said  McKenna,  lifting  his  eye 
brows.  "  Twenty-eight  on  a  ring  worth  only  thirty 
thousand?" 

"  It  was  not  a  business  transaction  —  entirely," 
said  Mapleson  stiffly. 

"  Then  Sontag  &  Company  knew  nothing  about 
it?" 

"  No." 

"  Was  the  ring  pledged  the  day  before  Majendie 
committed  suicide  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"In  the  morning?" 

"  Early  in  the  morning." 

"  One  final  question.  The  ring  is  still  in  your  pos 
session  ?  " 

"  No." 

"It  is  not  in  your  possession?"  said  McKenna, 
with  a  sudden  clearing  of  his  forehead.  "  Mr. 
Mapleson,  you  are  answering  this  because  you  feel 
bound  — " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mapleson  quickly.  "  The  ring 
was  redeemed  this  morning.  I  know  nothing  more 
about  it." 

The  speculations  which  were  occasioned  by  this 
disclosure .  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  knock  on 
the  door. 


834  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Come !  "  said  McKenna  sharply. 

An  assistant  entered  the  room  with  two  letters. 
McKenna  looked  at  the  first  and  nodded,  and  then 
seeing  the  address  on  the  second  looked  up  quickly, 
saying : 

"  How  did  this  come  —  this  letter  for  Mr. 
Beecher?" 

"  It  was  sent  down  from  his  apartment,  I  believe, 
sir.  Mr.  Beecher's  man  brought  it,  I  think." 

"  Very  well." 

McKenna  dismissed  him  with  a  gesture,  but  in 
stead  of  opening  his  letter  thrust  both  of  them  into 
his  pocket. 

"  That's  all,  Mr.  Mapleson,"  he  said  with  incisive- 
ness.  "  I'm  sorry  to  have  troubled  you.  It's  quite 
possible,  as  you  perhaps  believe,  this  case  will  be 
settled  out  of  court." 

"  Let's  hope  so,"  said  Mapleson  non-committally. 
"  I'm  always  at  your  service,  you  know.  It's  I  who 
should  apologize.  Mr.  Gunther,  remember  me  to 
your  father.  Mr.  Beecher,  I  hope  to  meet  you  soon 
again." 

He  shook  hands  warmly  with  Beecher,  as  though 
;  the  young  man  had  acquired  a  new  value  in  his  eyes, 
and  went  out. 

The  moment  the  door  had  shut,  McKenna  had  the 
two  letters  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Two  letters  from  the  same  lady,"  he  said,  toss 
ing  one  to  Beecher.  "  Both  messages  the  same,  too, 
I'll  bet.  Of  course!" 

He  laughed  and  extended  the  letter  to  Gunther, 
who  read: 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  S35 

DEAR  MR.  McKENNA: 

The  ring  has  just  been  returned.  Can  I  see  you  at  once? 
Take  no  further  measures. 

RITA  KILDAIR. 

McKenna  was  a  changed  man.  All  the  indecision 
had  left  him.  His  eyes  were  sparkling  with  pleas 
ure  and  he  was  laughing  to  himself,  as  he  took  up 
the  telephone. 

"  Here,  give  me  Clancy,"  he  cried  impatiently. 
"  Hello.  What's  the  matter  with  Brady ;  hasn't  he 
come  back  with  that  information  yet?  He  has? 
Well,  why  the  devil  —  send  in  the  figures !  Quick !  " 

A  moment  later  a  slip  was  in  his  hand  and  he  was 
gazing  at  it  eagerly. 

"  Mr.  Beecher,  give  me  half  an  hour's  start  —  no, 
better,  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  Wait  —  have 
you  got  a  car?  Good.  Drive  me  up  to  Mrs.  Kil- 
dair's  as  fast  as  you  can  get  me  there." 

"  What  about  Garraboy?  "  said  Gunther.  "  Is  he 
to  go  free?" 

"  Not  by  a  damn  sight!"  said  McKenna  joyfully 
rushing  them  down  the  hall.  In  the  office  he 
stopped  to  say  hurriedly :  "  Clancy,  stick  by  Garraboy 
—  feed  him  —  but  keep  him  close  until  I  telephone 
you!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

McKENNA  was  not  without  that  penetrating 
imagination  that  has  in  it  the  quality  of  vision, 
the  power  to  invoke  the  figures  of  the  past  and  to 
follow  an  idea  into  the  recesses  of  the  future.  All 
that  he  had  learned  and  all  that  he  had  tentatively 
surmised  of  the  mysterious  purposes  of  Rita  Kildair, 
returned  to  him  with  renewed  vividness  as  he  entered 
the  elevator  saying  briefly  to  a  question : 

"  I'm  expected." 

In  his  long  and  profound  pursuit  of  human  law 
lessness,  the  detective  had  formed  a  crude  philosophy, 
built  on  the  perception  of  the  inequalities  of  justice. 
The  beginning  of  all  crime,  if  he  could  thus  have 
phrased  it  to  himself,  was  failure.  For  each  man 
that  he  had  sent  to  jail  for  embezzlement,  in  the 
capacious  corridor  of  his  memory  he  knew  another 
who  ethically  was  the  greater  rogue,  and,  as  he  had 
said  to  Beecher,  each  day  he  met  one  such,  looked 
into  his  eyes,  shook  his  hands  and  took  his  orders. 
For  each  woman  upon  whom  public  scorn  had  set  the 
brand  of  adventuress,  he  knew  another  woman  who 
stood  enthroned  by  that  same  society.  Confusedly 
in  his  mind  he  had  shaped  a  crude  analysis  of  life. 
For  him  only  two  classes  existed,  the  strong  and  the 
weak.  The  strong  was  that  brutal  race  which  could 
not  be  held  down  by  the  restraints  of  society,  who 
must  rise,  acquire  power,  dominate,  obeying  the 

336 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  337 

natural  instinct  within  them;  the  weak  those  who 
aided  them  in  their  upward  progress,  who  served 
them  when  they  had  arrived,  and  who  committed 
crimes  in  their  names.  It  was  not  a  moral  view  of 
life  so  much  as  it  was  a  perception  of  the  persisting 
law  of  all  animal  nature. 

The  engagement  to  Slade,  following  so  dramat 
ically  his  triumphant  rise  from  threatened  disas 
ter,  had  made  him  realize  that  whatever  methods  she 
had  dared  to  employ,  Mrs.  Kildair  was  one  of  those 
whom  society  would  never  scorn  for  her  failure. 
Intrigued  as  he  was  over  the  details  of  the  theft  of 
the  ring,  what  absorbed  him  most  was  the  woman. 
And  determined  at  all  hazards  to  force  the  defenses 
of  her  reserve,  he  rang  the  bell. 

Mrs.  Kildair  was  at  the  piano,  the  riotous  move 
ments  of  an  Hungarian  Czardas  filling  the  apart 
ment.  She  broke  off  suddenly,  rising  as  McKenna 
entered  the  studio.  The  mood  of  whirling  ecstasy, 
suddenly  cut  off, 'was  still  in  her  flushed  cheeks  and 
excited  eyes,  as  she  glided  rapidly  toward  him. 

She  was  in  evening  gown,  of  some  flame-colored, 
filmy  material,  with  sudden  trembling  flashes  of  gold 
bewildering  to  the  eye,  provoking  to  the  imagination. 
The  bodice,  extreme  in  its  daring,  was  not  one  of 
those  stiff  cuirasses,  in  which  women  encase  them 
selves;  rather  the  effect  was  of  a  billowy  scarf  that 
had  caught  and  wrapped  itself  languidly  about  her. 
The  low  throat,  the  graceful  arms,  the  brilliant  row 
of  pointed  teeth  over  the  full  under  lip,  all  had  an 
extraordinary  quality  of  vibrant,  awake,  impatient 
vitality. 


338  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

In  seeing  her  thus,  McKenna  comprehended  at 
once  that  she  had  prepared  herself  for  Slade;  but  so 
daring  was  the  effect  of  the  seduction  which  she  had 
barbarically  planned  to  tantalize  the  financier,  that 
McKenna  himself  felt  the  effect  with  a  little  nervous, 
conscious  dropping  of  his  eyes.  The  movement  did 
not  escape  her,  and  not  disdaining  the  tribute  she 
smiled  to  herself  a  quick,  feline  little  smile. 

"  You,  McKenna  ?  "  she  said.     "  You  are  prompt." 

"  I  came  immediately." 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you." 

They  stood  a  few  feet  apart  in  the  middle  of  the 
studio  studying  each  other,  as  two  fencers  take  their 
measure  before  joining  their  swords. 

"You  were  at  your  office  then?"  she  said  the 
first. 

"  Yes,  I  came  up  in  Mr.  Beecher's  car." 

"  Mr.  Beecher  was  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"I  sent  him—-" 

"  A  letter,  yes.     He  received  it  at  my  office." 

"  But  why  didn't  he  come  up  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  asked  him  to  give  me  half  an  hour  here  with 
you." 

"  That  was  better,"  she  said  firmly. 

All  the  undisciplined  impulses  that  had  been  stir 
ring,  gradually  seemed  to  subside  as  she  watched  him, 
warily  drawing  about  her  an  invisible  defense. 

"  Here  is  the  ring,"  she  said  suddenly,  extending 
her  arm  with  a  gesture  that  was  no  longer  languid 
and  feminine,  but  forceful  and  controlled. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  it,"  he  said. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  339 

She  drew  it  from  her  ringer  and  held  it  out  to  him. 
He  laid  it  in  his  palm  and  studied  it  profoundly. 

"What  is  it  worth?"  he  asked. 

"  Over  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Ah,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Beecher  told  me  you 
said  fifteen  thousand." 

She  looked  at  him  from  under  her  eyelids. 

"  I  have  just  learned  its  value." 

"  Remarkable  —  a  splendid  stone.  It  has  had 
quite  a  history,"  he  said,  handing  it  back  to  her  and 
watching  it  return  to  her  finger.  "  Let's  hope  it  will 
stay  there  quietly  for  some  time." 

"You  know  its  story?" 

"  From  the  beginning.  It  will  interest  you.  I'll 
send  it  to  you." 

"  Do." 

The  last  replies  she  had  given  were  mechanical, 
her  whole  mind  focused  on  him,  alert  for  any  sud 
den  turn  to  her  advantage,  seeking  to  penetrate  the 
tactics  he  would  employ. 

"  You  kept  away  —  on  purpose,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"  That's  so." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  call  it  a  matter  of  vanity,"  he  said. 

"In  what  way?" 

:<  You  excited  my  curiosity  —  you  were  a  little 
too  clever  in  our  last  interview." 

"  So  you  kept  on  with  your  investigations  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Successful?"  she  said  lightly. 

"  Very." 

"Indeed?     Do  you  know  who  took  the  ring?" 


340  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"The  first  time?     No." 

She  stopped,  looked  at  him  intently,  and  said*. 

"  The  second  time  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  who  took  it  the  second  time." 

"Who?" 

"  You." 

She  laughed  without  confusion  and,  turning  from 
him,  went  toward  the  fireplace,  resting  one  bare  arm 
on  the  mantel,  the  red  splash  of  the  ruby  showing 
like  a  flare  of  anger  against  her  cheek.  She  looked 
back  at  McKenna,  who  had  not  moved,  saying  with 
an  admonishing  shake  of  her  head : 

"  McKenna,  you  are  guessing." 

"  It's  a  good  guess." 

"  Let  me  hear  your  theory/* 

"  It  is  not  a  theory  today." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yesterday  it  was  a  guess;  today,  I  know." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  today  I  saw  Mapleson,"  he  said,  watch 
ing  her. 

"Yes?  Mapleson,  of  Sontag  &  Company?  I 
know  him  very  well,"  she  replied  with  still  no  ex 
pression  but  amusement.  "What  then?" 

"  The  ring  was  pawned  with  him,  a  personal  mat 
ter,  the  morning  after  the  theft,  for  the  sum  of 
twenty-eight  thousand  dollars.  It  was  redeemed  to 
day." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  you,  naturally,"  said  McKenna,  yet  despite 
his  absolute  conviction,  her  composure  was  such  that 
he  was  almost  shaken  in  his  theory. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  341 

"  Mapleson  never  told  you  that." 

"  No ;  he  refused  to  answer.  It  lay  in  my  mind 
between  you  and  Mrs.  Cheever.  The  fact  that  he 
would  not  answer,  gave  me  my  strongest  clue." 

"In  what  way?" 

"If  it  had  been  Mrs.  Cheever,  he  would  not  have 
concealed  it,  because  it  would  have  been  a  theft. 
But  as  it  was  you  who  came  to  him,  he  refused  to 
divulge  the  name,  because  he  knew  that  no  crime 
had  been  committed  and  that  we  had  either  no  right 
to  be  investigating,  or  were  doing  so  to  be  blinded 
by  you." 

"  McKenna,  you  are  guessing/'  said  Mrs.  Kildair 
again.  "  You  are  supposing  that  only  Mrs.  Cheever 
and  I  are  on  such  terms  with  him  that  we  could  make 
such  a  personal  transaction.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
not  only  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  but  her  husband  and  Miss 
Lille  could  have  done  the  same  thing." 

"  True,"  said  McKenna,  but  he  added  obstinately : 
"  No,  the  only  reason  Mapleson  withheld  the  name 
was  because  no  crime  had  been  committed." 

"  Before  we  go  on,"  she  said  with  the  same  mock 
ing  smile,  "  would  you  mind  telling  me  how  you 
worked  out  this  theory  ?  Sit  down.  I  really  am  in 
terested." 

If  McKenna  had  not  in  his  possession  one  bit  of 
information  which  he  had  withheld,  he  would  have 
felt  the  nervousness  of  a  possible  and  ridiculous  fail 
ure.  At  it  was,  a  doubt  flashed  across  his  mind ;  but 
he  allowed  her  to  see  none  of  this  hesitation. 

"  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  let  you  know  how  it 
came  about,"  he  said,  sitting  down  and  speaking 


342  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

frankly.  "  I'm  not  laying  claim  to  anything  star 
tling.  I'll  admit  now  that  as  to  the  details  of  how 
it  was  done,  and  why  it  was  done,  I  don't  know.  I 
can  guess;  but  I  don't  know.  But  as  to  tracing  the 
ring  and  working  back  from  that  —  that's  A.B.C." 
Then,  with  a  flash  of  intuition,  he  said  abruptly: 
"  Of  course,  Mapleson  has  just  'phoned  you." 

'''  Well,  go  on,"  she  said  without  reply,  drawn 
back  a  little,  listening  intently. 

"  The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  locate  the  ring," 
he  began.  "  You  yourself  know  how  easy  it  is 
to  follow  a  stone  worth  thirty  thousand.  You  know 
that,  because  the  moment  you  found  out  I  was  on  the 
case,  you  knew  I  would  learn  that  Slade  gave  it  to 
you.  That's  why  you  had  me  come  here  —  to  block 
it." 

"  That's  true." 

"  Now,  for  a  while,  I  admit  I  was  in  the  dark, 
following  several  clues,  and  I  don't  mind  saying  here 
that  until  your  engagement  I  was  not  at  all  sure  it 
wasn't  Mr.  Slade  himself  who  had  taken  that  way 
of  recovering  it." 

"  That's  strange,"  she  said,  startled.  "  Yes,  I  can 
see  that  was  possible,  too." 

"  Now,  what  I  was  working  on/'  said  McKenna, 
"  was  the  strongest  motive  —  that  whoever  took  it 
up,  took  it  because  he  had  to  take  it  to  raise  money, 
to  pay  a  debt  or  to  gamble  on  the  market.  So  I 
investigated  two  ways  —  first,  the  back  histories  and 
the  present  standing  of  every  one  at  your  party; 
second,  in  the  great  jewelry  shops,  to  find  out  if  the 
ring  had  been  sold  or  pawned." 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  343 

"  Of  course." 

"  I  didn't  believe  it  had  been  done  openly  —  that 
would  have  been  too  risky  —  but  through  some  chan 
nel  like  Mapleson.  But  I  wasn't  thinking  of 
Mapleson  then.  I  couldn't  locate  the  ring.  I  found 
out  that  Bloodgood,  Cheever,  Mrs.  Cheever,  Miss 
Lille  and  Garraboy  had  all  speculated  heavily  on  the 
market  next  day.  That  didn't  help  much.  Now  I 
come  to  my  interview  with  you." 

Mrs.  Kildair  nodded  and  leaned  forward  slightly. 

"  That  worried  me.  After  that,  I  did  one  thing 
and  thought  another.  Down  at  the  bottom,  there 
was  something  that  kept  me  thinking  about  you,  some 
thing  that  bothered  me.  That's  where  the  guess 
work  comes  in,  but  I  don't  know  as  I'd  call  it  guess 
work.  It's  an  instinct  you  get  when  you  come  in 
contact  with  a  person  —  it's  put  me  on  the  right 
track  many  a  time.  1  saw  you  didn't  want  anything 
done,  but  what  fooled  me  was,  I  thought  it  was  — " 
He  hesitated,  and  then  said  boldly :  "  Mrs.  Kildair, 
no  use  talking  unless  we  say  what  we  mean,  is 
there?" 

"  Quite  right,  be  professional,"  she  said  with  a 
quick  nod.  "  You  thought  I  wished  to  conceal  what 
my  true  relations  were  with  Slade?  That's  it,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  that  was  it,"  he  said  slowly.  "  And  being 
wrong  myself,  I  figured  out  a  possible  motive.  I 
was  dead  sure  you  knew  who  had  taken  the  ring. 
Don't  ask  how  —  that's  instinct  —  but  I  knew.  So 
I  figured  out  it  was  blackmail  you  were  afraid  of, 
and  I  began  looking  around  for  the  lady  or  gentle- 


344  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

man  who  would  know  that  the  ring  had  belonged 
to  Slade.  Do  you  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  go  on.     It's  very  plausible." 

"  It  looked  like  Garraboy,  and  it  looked  like  the 
Cheevers  at  times/'  he  said.  "  Then  Mr.  Beecher 
told  me  of  seeing  Mapleson  in  Mrs.  Cheever's  box 
at  the  opera,  and  that  you  said  you  knew  him. 
That's  what  started  me  on  Mapleson.  Likewise,  I 
began  thinking  more  and  more  about  that  interview 
with  you.  Then  came  your  engagement  and  I  flung 
over  all  my  theories,  and  got  down  to  work.  I  be 
gan  to  look  you  up,  and  when  I  found  out  the  situa 
tion  from  Mapleson,  I  made  up  my  mind  then  and 
there,  for  one  reason  or  another,  you  yourself  took 
the  ring  the  second  time." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  No,  this  evening  I  got  the  last  link  I'd  been  wait 
ing  for." 

"  What's  that?" 

"  Your  account  with  your  broker,  and  the  record 
of  sales,"  he  said,  bringing  out  a  slip  from  his  pocket. 

"  Do  you  get  convictions  on  such  evidence  as 
this  ?  "  she  said  steadily. 

"  No,"  he  said  frankly;  "but  I  get  confessions." 

"Why  should  I  take  my  own  ring?" 

"  The  situation  was  unusual.  You  probably 
learned  of  Majendie's  failure  and  you  plunged  on 
the  short  side." 

"  But  why  not  do  so  openly  ?  "  she  said  calmly. 

He  hesitated. 

"  Do  you  really  want  me  to  answer  that  ?  "  he  said 
finally. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  345 

"  We  are  not  mincing  words." 

"  You  were  not  engaged  to  Mr.  Slade  at  that  mo 
ment,"  he  began. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  do  know.  The  one  thing  in  your  interview 
with  me  I  particularly  remember  was  your  anxiety 
that  Mr.  Slade  should  know  nothing." 

She  remained  thoughtful,  bracing  her  fingers 
against  each  other,  carefully  considering  what  he 
had  shown  he  knew. 

"  And  your  theory  is  that  I  took  the  ring  the  sec 
ond  time,"  she  said,  "  when  whoever  first  took  it 
had  thrown  it  on  the  table,  that  I  called  in  detectives 
to  make  Slade  believe  it  had  been  stolen,  so  that  I 
could  gamble  in  Wall  Street  without  being  sus 
pected." 

"  Exactly,"  he  said.  "  I  have  no  means  of  know 
ing  who  took  it  first,  but  I  would  gamble  my  soul 
you  took  it  the  second  time.  For  another  reason: 
any  one  who  took  it  knew  he  faced  a  search  —  that  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  get  it  out  of  the  room. 
The  only  person  who  could  take  it  without  being 
suspected  was  yourself." 

"  McKenna,"  she  said  at  last,  but  without  the 
amusement  that  had  formerly  been  in  her  eyes,  "  you 
are  still  guessing." 

He  rose  impatiently  and  went  across  the  room,  his 
hands  behind  his  back. 

"  Then,  Mrs.  Kildair,"  he  said,  turning,  "  do  you 
wish  me  to  report  what  I  have  just  told  you  to  my 
client,  Mr.  Beecher  —  as  a  guess?" 

She  stood  up  at  once,  fully  alert. 


346  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,  I  am  not  an  enemy,' '  he  continued, 
with  a  sudden  change  of  manner.  "  I  may  not  know 
all  —  but  I  know  too  much.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  right 
out  why  I  want  your  confidence.  You  marry  John 
G.  Slade.  Slade  is  going  to  be  one  of  the  biggest 
figures  in  the  country;  I  know  that.  I've  had  his 
business;  I  want  to  keep  it.  It's  going  to  be  ten 
times  what  it  was  before.  More,  I  want  his  back 
ing.  I  want  several  big  jobs  other  agencies  have 
got  —  The  Bankers'  Association,  for  one.  Now, 
from  what  I've  seen  of  you,  the  force  back  of  Slade 
will  be  Mrs.  Slade.  Tell  me  yourself  what  I  already 
know  and  I  know  I've  got  you  as  a  friend.  Keep 
it  from  me,  and  I  know  you'll  supplant  me  with  your 
husband.  There  may  come  a  time  when  I  can  serve 
you  —  you  never  can  tell.  O  It's  worth  trying.  I  re 
peat  I  know  too  much.  The  only  way  to  guard 
against  it  is  by  full  confidence." 

"  You  are  right.  I  will  tell  you,"  she  said  sud 
denly,  and  she  added  seriously,  "  I  was  prepared  to 
tell  you.  But  it  is  understood  this  remains  our 
secret." 

"  My  word." 

"  And  that  Mr.  Beecher  is  not  to  have  the  slight 
est  clue.  Can  you  promise  me  that  ?  " 

"  I  have  another  story  ready." 

"  Good.  Then  it  is  an  alliance,"  she  said,  and  she 
offered  her  hand  abruptly,  with  a  movement  full  of 
authority. 

McKenna  shook  hands,  surprised  at  the  masculine 
directness  of  her  grip,  surprised  too  at  the  utter  dis 
appearance  from  her  face  and  attitude  of  all  the  im- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  347 

pulsive  fire  and  fascination  that  had  first  struck  him. 

"  You  are  right,  and  you  are  wrong,"  she  said 
directly.  "  I  took  the  ring,  but  in  an  entirely  differ 
ent  way  from  what  you  believe.  I  did  not  take  it 
at  the  table,  as  you  think  —  do  you  know  where  I 
found  it?" 

"Where?" 

"  In  the  pocket  of  Mr.  Beecher's  overcoat." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

McKENNA  was   so  startled  at  this  announce 
ment  that  the  expression  on  his  face  brought 
a  smile  to  the  face  of  the  woman. 

"  Let  me  begin  at  the  beginning,"  she  said. 

While  he  seated  himself,  she  continued  moving 
about,  her  head  down,  her  lip  closed  over  her  under 
lip,  carefully  considering  the  situation.  She  had  no 
fear  to  give  her  confidence.  She  understood  the 
man  with  whom  she  was  dealing,  the  more  so  for  his 
open  avowal  of  his  reasons  for  seeking  her  friend 
ship.  Also  she  was  fully  alive  as  to  the  strength 
of  such  an  alliance.  What  she  considered  was  how 
much  she  should  reveal.  To-morrow  she  would  be 
Mrs.  John  G.  Slade,  at  the  goal  of  her  ambitions, 
over  what  perilous  paths  only  she  herself  knew. 
The  knowledge  of  what  she  had  won  suffocated  her, 
for  the  nature  of  dramatic  and  adventurous  spirits 
is  such  that  they  must  seek  relief  in  confidence. 
More,  they  crave  the  admiration  that  only  another 
can  bring  to  complete  their  moments  of  self-intoxica 
tion.  At  this  moment,  when  her  role  had  been 
played,  she  craved  applause.  McKenna  was  not  a 
friend  —  he  was  a  machine,  a  rock  that  would  give 
back  an  echo.  Beside,  what  had  he  not  divined? 

"McKenna,"  she  began  quietly,  though  weighing 
her  words,  "  to  any  one  else  I  might  tell  my  story 
differently.  With  you  it  is  otherwise.  You  are  no 

348 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  349 

fool.  I  shall  speak  openly.  On  the  night  of  my 
party  I  was  virtually  ruined." 

"  Ruined !  "  exclaimed  McKenna,  with  an  involun 
tary  glance  at  the  luxury  which  surrounded  them. 

"  When  I  say  ruined,  I  mean  for  me,"  she  said, 
nodding.  She  became  thoughtful,  looking  beyond 
him,  seeing  a  distant  self.  "  When  I  came  here  I 
had  fifteen  thousand  a  year.  I  was  not  satisfied.  I 
wanted  forty.  I  gambled.  I  have  always  gambled. 
I  lost  heavily.  That  night  I  had  only  five  thousand 
a  year  left.  That  was  ruin  for  me.  I  speculated 
on  the  tips  of  a  man  who  deliberately  and  for  a  pur 
pose  misinformed  me.  Can  you  guess  who  that 
man  was  ?  " 

"  Slade,"  said  McKenna  instantly. 

"  Yes,  Slade,"  she  said.  "  It  has  been  a  desper 
ate  struggle  between  us.  Tomorrow  I  shall  become 
his  wife.  That  is  what  I  want  more  than  I  have 
ever  wanted  anything  else.  It  is  my  right  —  you 
will  see  what  I  will  do.  Understand  me,  if  Slade 
had  failed  I  should  not  have  married  him,  and  yet 
I  tell  you  frankly  he  is  the  only  man  I  have  known 
that  appeals  to  me  in  every  way.  However,"  she 
added,  with  a  little  abrupt  movement  of  her  closed 
hand,  "  that's  over.  I  have  won." 

"  Did  he  know  that  you  had  lost  ?  "  asked  Mc 
Kenna  slowly. 

"  No,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  he  never  knew. 
Not  that  he  would  not  have  made  it  up  —  in  his 
way.  It  is  a  game  he  must  have  played  many  times." 
She  went  to  a  writing-desk  and,  unlocking  a  drawer, 
brought  out  a  note.  "  When  I  told  you  he  gave  me 


350  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

this  ring  with  an  offer  of  marriage,"  she  said,  return 
ing,  "  that  was  not  true.  He  had  no  thought  of 
marriage  then  —  far  from  it.  He  offered  me  the 
ring  and  I  refused  it,  knowing  that  he  did  so  only 
to  try  my  weakness.  Also,  he  wanted  to  find  out 
what  I  knew  of  Majendie  and  the  Atlantic  Trust. 
When  he  left  he  sent  it  back  with  this  note.  Read 
it." 

McKenna  took  the  sheet,  smoothing  out  the 
wrinkles,  and  held  it  up. 

DEAR  LADY: 

Apologies  for  my  rudeness.  If  you  won't  accept  a  gift, 
at  least  wear  the  ring  for  a  week.  I  should  like  to  know 
what  effect  it  could  have  on  your  cold  little  soul.  Oblige 
my  curiosity.  It's  only  a  little  reparation  for  the  disap 
pointment  I  gave  you. 

J.  G.  S. 

Mrs.  Kildair  took  the  note  again  and  returning  to 
the  desk  locked  it  in  the  drawer. 

"  This,  then,  was  my  situation  the  night  of  the 
party.  I  had  lost  two  thirds  of  what  I  had.  I  was 
absolutely  resolved  to  play  everything  I  possessed 
on  one  last  gamble.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the 
financial  situation  at  that  time.  I  knew  Majendie 
and  I  knew  Slade.  Furthermore,  I  knew  Mrs. 
Bloodgood.  The  problem  was  this  —  if  Majendie 
was  to  be  supported  and  the  Atlantic  Trust  to  be  up 
held,  there  would  probably  be  no  panic.  If  Majen 
die  failed,  I  knew  there  would  be  a  tremendous  break 
in  stocks  —  a  killing  for  those  who  knew  what  was 
coming.  That  night  everything  depended  on  my 
solving  Majendie's  fate.  I  did  and  I  won.  It  was 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  351 

a  guess,  but  a  guess  such  as  you  understand.  I  have 
known  too  many  men  not  to  know  how  a  true  man 
acts  under  such  circumstances.  He  came  from  the 
meeting  that  had  condemned  him,  and  the  first  mo 
ment  he  greeted  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  I  was  sure  that  he 
was  lost.  Later,  as  he  bowed  ironically  to  some 
thing  I  had  said,  I  saw  in  the  gaping  of  his  pocket 
something  that  gave  me  another  clue  —  a  slight 
thing,  but  which  had  a  lot  to  do  with  what  followed 

—  just  an  edge  of  a  green  folder." 

"  A  folder  ?  "  said  McKenna,  perplexed. 

"  Yes,  a  folder  that  I  thought  might  be  a  railroad 
time-table,"  she  said,  nodding.  "  I  knew,  of  course, 
of  Mrs.  Bloodgood's  infatuation.  I  had  her  con 
fidence.  I  knew  that  she  had  started  to  procure  a 
divorce.  I  likewise  knew  how  often  she  had  begged 
Majendie  to  elope  with  her.  Furthermore,  almost 
every  one  there  that  night  was  watching  Majendie 
for  the  same  purpose  —  all  who  were  speculating; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheever,  Bloodgood,  Garraboy,  Maud 
Lille,  Slade  —  who  came  in  late,  quite  unexpected 

—  were  there  on  the  same  errand." 

"  Yes,  that  I  understood,"  said  McKenna. 

"  Now,  I  come  to  the  actual  theft  of  the  ring. 
The  moment  I  found  it  had  been  taken,  I  realized 
all  the  difficulties  of  my  position,  how  dangerous 
any  inquiry  would  be  to  my  reputation,  which  would 
necessarily  establish  the  fact  of  its  being  a  gift  of 
Slade's.  I  resolved  on  desperate  measures.  That 
is  why  I  came  back,  had  the  doors  locked,  extin 
guished  the  lights,  and  announced  that  I  would  call 
in  detectives  to  have  every  one  searched,  unless  the 


352  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

ring  was  restored  during  the  period  in  the  dark, 
while  I  counted  one  hundred." 

"  Did  you  suspect  who  had  taken  it?  "  asked  Mc- 
Kenna. 

"  There  were  several  I  could  suspect  —  that  was 
the  trouble/'  she  said.  "  As  you  know,  when  I  had 
counted  sixty-one,  there  was  a  sound  on  the  table. 
Every  one  exclaimed!  The  ring  had  been  restored! 
When  the  lights  were  lit  the  table  was  bare.  Evi 
dently  a  second  thief  had  taken  what  the  first  had 
restored.  That's  what  I  thought  —  every  one 
thought.  I  was  wrong.  There  were  not  two  thieves, 
there  was  only  one." 

"  The  same  person  had  put  it  down  as  a  blind  and 
taken  it  again,"  said  McKenna  slowly,  as  she  waited 
for  his  comment. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "  It  was  all  cleverly 
planned,  and  only  an  accident  prevented  its  being 
successful.  My  ring  was  never  on  the  table." 

"  The  ring  that  was  thrown  down,  then,"  said 
McKenna,  suddenly  enlightened,  "  was  another  ring 
—  a  blind  —  to  cover  what  any  one  might  have  seen  ? 
I  see!" 

"  And  also  to  make  it  appear  that  the  ring  was 
in  the  studio." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  it  now,"  said  McKenna,  nod 
ding,  with  a  sudden  snap  of  his  fingers. 

"  I  immediately  went  out,  locking  the  door,  and 
telephoned  for  my  detectives.  To  this  point  this  was 
my  only  thought.  When  I  had  done  that,  I  began  to 
think  over  what  had  happened.  It  seemed  incred 
ible  to  me  that  any  one  should  have  dared  take  such 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  353 

a  risk  —  particularly  as  a  search  was  inevitable. 
When  I  returned  to  the  studio  and  awaited  the  ar 
rival  of  my  detectives,  this  was  my  only  thought.  I 
studied  each  and  I  became  convinced  that  the  ring 
would  not  be  found  on  any  one.  If  that  were  true, 
where  was  it?  In  the  studio,  hidden  somewhere  — 
but  even  there  it  would  be  sure  to  be  found  —  so 
why  should  any  one  have  even  risked  that  ?  "  She 
stopped  a  moment  and  then  said  quietly,  with  again 
that  same  far-seeing  look  beyond  him :  "  McKenna, 
in  my  life  I  have  seen  many  strange  scenes.  I  have 
known  of  many  more.  One  such  came  back  to  me 
and  I  guessed  this  much  —  that  the  real  ring  had  not 
been  heard.  But  that  was  all.  When  the  detectives 
arrived,  I  went  quietly  into  the  hall,  still  trying  to 
work  it  out.  Quite  by  accident,  I  brushed  against 
one  of  the  coats  that  was  hanging  over  the  railing 
and  knocked  it  down.  Absolutely  mechanically, 
without  knowing  why  I  did  it,  when  I  picked  it  up 
I  ran  my  hands  in  the  pockets.  In  the  second  was 
the  ring." 

"And  the  coat,  you  say,  was  Beecher's?"  said 
McKenna,  amazed. 

"  Wait.  I  replaced  it  hurriedly,  noticing  how 
similar  it  was  to  another  that  still  lay  on  the  rail. 
Then  I  opened  the  door  and  ushered  the  detectives 
into  the  dining-room.  I  had  the  ring,  but  I  did 
not  know  the  thief.  Then  all  at  once  it  came  over 
me  to  what  use  I  might  put  what  had  occurred.  I 
had  the  ring  which  had  been  offered  me,  but  which 
I  could  not  accept  openly.  I  could  now  use  it  to  raise 
money  for  the  speculation  I  had  resolved  upon,  with- 


354  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

out  Slack's  knowing  of  the  obligation.  Second,  I 
wanted  to  make  sure  that  I  had  really  seen  a  time 
table  in  the  pocket  of  Majendie.  I  gave  my  order 
to  that  effect  to  the  detectives  and  started  the  search.'* 

"Was  it  a  time-table?" 

"  Nothing  was  found.  Majendie,  profiting  either 
by  the  first  period  of  darkness,  or  the  second,  had 
thrown  it  away.  I  found  it  in  the  waste-basket  a 
little  later.  It  was  a  time-table  and  his  very  action 
made  my  guess  a  certainty." 

"But  the  thief?" 

"  When  the  turn  of  Garraboy  arrived,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair,  "  he  left,  as  all  did,  without  returning  to 
the  studio.  I  was  watching  him  particularly.  Five 
minutes  after  he  left,  he  returned.  He  had  taken 
Mr.  Beecher's  coat  by  mistake." 

An  exclamation  of  annoyance  escaped  McKenna. 
He  sprang  up  angrily. 

"  Mrs.  Kildair,"  he  said,  not  attempting  to  restrain 
his  annoyance,  "  that  is  the  one  thing  Mr.  Beecher 
neglected  to  tell  me  —  see  how  we  are  handi 
capped  — " 

"  I'm  not  blaming  you,  McKenna,"  said  Mrs. 
Kildair  with  a  smile.  "  On  the  contrary,  you  dis 
covered  entirely  too  much." 

"  It  was  cleverly  worked  out,"  said  McKenna 
grimly,  "  and  no  risk.  He  had  his  wits  about  him. 
Sounding  another  ring  on  the  table  to  limit  the 
search  to  the  studio  was  quick  thinking.  Planting 
it  in  Beecher's  coat  was  better.  Even  if  he  were 
caught  with  it  on,  he  could  pretend  amazement,  a 
natural  mistake.  And  if  not,  it  was  a  clean  get- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  355 

away,"  he  added  ruefully.  "  All  the  same,  I  wish 
I'd  known  that  detail." 

"  For  the  rest  you  were  right.  Mapleson  loaned 
me  the  money.  He  is  an  old  acquaintance,  and  I 
have  once  or  twice,"  she  said  carelessly,  "  rendered 
him  important  services.  He  did  telephone  me  ten 
minutes  before  you  came.  I  staked  everything  I 
had  in  the  market.  I  doubled  my  losses.  Is  there 
any  other  point  ?  " 

"  Your  having  the  detectives  stay  was,  of  course, 
a  blind?" 

"Of  course.  I  called  Miss  Charters  and  Garra- 
boy  on  purpose.  To  this  day  I  wonder  who  he 
thinks  got  the  ring  from  him." 

"  He  suspects,"  said  McKenna. 

"  Probably,"  she  said  carelessly.  Then  she  turned 
on  him.  "  Now,  McKenna,  answer  me  a  question." 

"Which  one?" 

"  It's  a  thing  I  want  to  know,"  she  said,  with  a 
sudden  shade  of  dread  creeping  over  her  face.  "  It 
is  one  of  those  fatalities  in  life  that  are  so  terrible. 
Majendie  killed  himself  because  he  thought  the  de 
tectives  on  his  track  had  a  warrant  for  his  arrest. 
Weren't  they,  in  fact,  your  men,  simply  placed  there 
to  record  his  movements  for  Slade?" 

"  Mrs.  Slade,"  said  McKenna,  not  noticing  the 
slip,  "  you  have  just  given  me  a  profound  con 
fidence.  Would  you  trust  in  my  power  to  keep  it,  if, 
supposing  I  knew  anything,  I  should  tell  you?  Ask 
your  husband  himself  and  tell  me  yourself.  I  am 
curious  also." 

Mrs.   Kildair,  who  saw  in  the  politic  evasion  a 


356  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

feminine  answer,  nodded  and  drew  back  with  a 
shudder. 

At  this  moment  Kiki  entering  announced  that  Mr. 
Beecher  was  below. 

"  Tell  him  the  truth,"  said  McKenna  quickly. 
"  That  is,  three  quarters  of  the  truth.  Leave  it  to 
me." 

When  Beecher  entered,  expectation  and  long-re 
strained  curiosity  on  his  face,  McKenna,  with  a  look 
of  crestfallen  defeat  which  completely  deceived  him, 
said  immediately: 

"  Mr.  Beecher,  have  you  that  envelope  I  gave 
you?" 

"  Am  I  to  open  it  ?  "  said  Beecher  eagerly,  bring 
ing  it  out. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  McKenna,  taking  it 
quickly.  He  took  it  and  could  not  resist  examining 
the  edges  to  see  if  it  had  been  tampered  with. 
"  This  is  one  of  my  failures,  Mr.  Beecher,"  he  said, 
tearing  it  into  small  pieces.  "  I've  got  too  much 
vanity  to  let  you  see  what  an  ass  I've  been." 

"What  does  this  mean?"  said  Beecher,  standing 
open-mouthed. 

"  It  means,  Teddy/'  said  Mrs.  Kildair  severely, 
"  that  it  is  entirely  your  fault." 

"My  fault!" 

"  Yes,  your  fault.  You  neglected  to  tell  Mr.  Mc 
Kenna  the  one  thing  that  was  important." 

"  What  thing  —  what  do  you-mean  ?  " 

"  That  Mr.  Garraboy  went  off  with  your  coat  by 
mistake." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  McKenna,  shaking  his 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  357 

head,  "  by  not  telling  me  that  one  detail,  you've  made 
a  fool  out  of  me." 

"  Then,  Garraboy  took  it!  "  said  Beecher,  his  face 
lighting  up  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  Garraboy  took  it,  planted  it  in  your  pocket  and 
then  faked  the  ring  at  the  table.  The  ring  was  re 
turned  through  a  woman  who  guessed  it  and  had  it 
restored.  Her  name  is  a  secret,  but  you  are  at 
liberty  to  guess." 

"  Miss  Lille,"  said  Beecher  to  himself.  This  de 
nouement,  which  coincided  so  closely  with  his  own 
divination,  completely  convinced  him. 

"  If  you've  no  further  use  for  me,"  said  Mc- 
Kenna,  with  the  same  hang-dog  look,  "  I'll  be  going. 
Another  time  I  hope  to  serve  you  better." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  who  contrived 
to  add  to  the  words  a  little  smile,  comprehensible 
only  to  the  detective. 

"  Permit  me  to  give  you  my  profound  congratula 
tions,"  said  McKenna,  taking  her  hand  with  a  bow 
that  made  Beecher  open  his  eyes  in  wonder.  "  I 
wish  you  every  success." 

"  Au  revoir,  McKenna,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair,  still 
smiling. 

"  Good-night,  McKenna,"  said  Beecher  in  turn. 

"  Oh,  you,"  said  the  detective,  going  off  grum 
bling  ;  "  I  have  a  bone  to  pick  with  you." 

Beecher  laughed  guiltily  when  the  door  had  closed. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  said,  "  McKenna  certainly  is  in 
bad  humor.  I'm  sorry.  But  he  was  off  on  a  tan 
gent,  wasn't  he  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

JUST  one  thing  I  would  like  to  know,"  said 
Beecher  when  Mrs.  Kildair,  following  McKen- 
na's  lead,  had  left  off  with  Garraboy's  departure. 

"  What  ? "  she  said,  noticing  his  sudden  embar 
rassment. 

He  could  not  keep  from  his  face  a  new  conscious 
ness,  but  he  went  on  lamely : 

"  Why  did  Miss  Charters  come  back?  " 

She  laughed  at  what  his  manner  revealed,  and  said : 

"  So  that's  it !  I  told  you  she  came  when  I  tele 
phoned  her." 

"  Yes,  but  why  did  you  do  that?  " 

"  Because  I  noticed  her  agitation  and  the  way  she 
watched  one  person  in  particular." 

"Mrs.  Bloodgood?" 

"  Yes." 

"What  did  she  tell  you?" 

"  She  had  seen  Mrs.  Bloodgood  pick  up  the  ring 
and  try  it  on,"  said  Mrs.  Kildair.  "  The  circum 
stances  did  seem  suspicious,  for  Mrs.  Bloodgood 
looked  up  in  the  mirror  and  saw  her  watching  her. 
Miss  Charters  did  not  know  whether  she  had  returned 
it,  I  suppose.  That  was  all.  It  did  look  bad  —  con 
sidering  what  happened  afterward." 

"  That  was  it,  then,"  said  Beecher,  satisfied.  He 
raised  his  head  and  saw  Mrs.  Kildair's  eyes  on  him 
intently. 

358 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  359 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  with  an  innocent  expression. 

"  How  far  has  it  gone?  "  said  Mrs.  Kildair. 

"What?" 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  Miss  Charters  ?  " 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  evasively. 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  And  if  I  said  yes  — " 

"  You  are  thinking  of  marriage?  " 

"And  if  I  were?" 

"  You'd  be  a  big  fool,"  she  said  decisively. 

He  raised  his  eyebrows,  astonished  and  wounded. 

"  You  say  this  —  the  day  before  your  own?  " 

"  Come  here,"  she  said,  taking  him  by  the  wrist 
and  leading  him  to  the  sofa.  "  Sit  down  there.  Are 
you  really  seriously  thinking  of  marriage?" 

"  Yes,  I  am." 

She  drew  back  in  her  chair,  looking  at  him  in 
doubt. 

"  Teddy,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  are  too  worth 
while  to  be  spoiled  like  that.  You  have  been  too 
loyal  a  friend  for  me  not  to  keep  you  from  this  blun 
der." 

"  But,  good  heavens,  am  I  not  a  responsible  be 
ing?" 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  cutting  him  off.  She  glanced 
at  the  clock.  "  I  haven't  much  time,  so  don't  inter 
rupt  me.  I  am  very  fond  of  you  and  what  I  say  is 
in  kindness.  Yes,  I  am  going  to  marry,  and  yet  I 
say  to  you  that  you  should  not.  I  understand  what 
it  means.  I  have  nothing  to  learn.  There  are  two 
kinds  of  marriages,  Teddy.  The  marriage  that 
ninety-nine  persons  out  of  a  hundred  make  —  the 


360  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

marriage  that  is  a  joining  of  forces  to  fight  the  bat 
tle  of  life  —  has  a  definite  object.  The  wife  is  the 
helpmate.  The  serious  thing  is  to  live,  to  pay  the 
bills  and  to  save  a  little  money.  You  have  nothing 
to  do  with  that  kind  of  marriage.  The  other  kind 
of  marriage  is  the  marriage  our  sort  makes,  most  of 
the  time  —  no  responsibilities,  no  object,  and  no 
struggle.  You  take  a  wife  to  help  you  enjoy  your 
self,  and  your  enjoyment  depends  on  piling  up  new 
sensations  —  in  never  being  bored.  Happiness  in 
such  conditions  is  a  miracle.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  is  not  a  marriage  at  all,  it  is  simply  a  liaison." 

"Even  then?" 

"  Yes,  certain  liaisons  have  lasted  and  been  happy," 
she  admitted ;  "  we  know  that,  but  only  on  the  same 
terms  that  will  make  permanent  happiness  in  such  a 
marriage.  You  are  not  a  worker  —  you  are  simply 
curious  about  life,  and  curiosity  is  not  a  thing  that  is 
satisfied  by  one  experience.  The  marriage  you  would 
make  now  would  simply  be  an  experience  in  curios 
ity,  with  inevitable  results.  To  have  any  chance  of 
success,  do  you  know  what  ought  to  be  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  There  should  be  on  each  side  an  equal  experience 
in  curiosity.  When  you  have  known  two  hundred 
women,  you  will  find  that  there  is  always  one  above 
the  rest  who  is  necessary  to  you.  Miss  Charters 
may  be  that  one  now,  but  without  the  experience  I 
speak  of,  you  will  never  recognize  it  until  too  late. 
Therefore,"  she  said,  standing  up,  "  don't  marry  for 
ten  years.  Not  with  such  eyes  and  such  lips,"  she 
said,  passing  her  hand  over  the  flushed  face  of  the 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  361 

young  man.  "  I  know  what  I'm  speaking  of.  Life's 
a  very  big  world  when  you're  alone,  and  a  very  small 
patch  when  you're  married.  Wait.  Think  over 
what  I've  said,  Teddy." 

He  did  think  over  what  she  had  told  him  as  he 
walked  out  into  the  street. 

"  She  sees  very  clearly,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  and 
there's  a  great  deal  in  what  she  says  —  a  great  deal," 
he  repeated  firmly,  and  stopping  at  the  first  hotel  he 
telephoned  Nan  Charters. 

The  next  morning  he  received  another  note  from 
her. 

Just  to  repeat,  Teddy  dear,  that  I  think  too  much  of 
you  to  hold  you  to  what  happened  yesterday.  We  must  both 
think  seriously  —  very  seriously. 

NAN. 

"  That's  right :  we  must  think  seriously,"  he  re 
peated  solemnly,  and  reached  for  the  papers,  after 
eying  the  telephone  for  a  long  time. 

Gunther  called  up  later  in  the  morning  to  give 
him  an  astonishing  bit  of  news  —  Garraboy  had 
sailed  for  Europe  at  nine  that  morning,  and  on  the 
same  ship  had  gone  Mrs.  Cheever.  But  this  news  did 
not  excite  him  in  the  least.  He  spent  the  morning 
very  heavily,  keeping  to  his  promise  not  to  telephone 
with  great  difficulty.  He  did  not  go  to  his  club  for 
luncheon,  but  took  his  meal  alone  at  a  chance  restau 
rant. 

Then  he  went  to  call  on  Emma  Fornez. 

"  Aha,  you  have  called  to  talk  to  me  about  your 
little  Charters,"  said  the  prima  donna  at  once. 


362  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  he  said  bluntly. 

"  It's  very  simple ;  when  a  man's  in  love  he  never 
talks  it  over  with  a  man  —  no,  he  always  goes  to  an 
other  woman." 

:<  Well,  would  you  be  surprised  if  I  married  Miss 
Charters  ? "  he  said,  glad  to  have  arrived  at  the  only 
topic  which  interested  him. 

"If  you  what!  "  exclaimed  Mme.  Fornez,  catapult 
ing  from  the  sofa. 

"  If  I  marry,"  he  repeated  firmly. 

"  Marry  ?  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  "  she  cried,  with  her 
hands  on  her  hips  and  bobbing  her  head  to  each  nega 
tion.  "Amuse  yourself  —  love  —  flirt  —  break  her 
heart  or  break  yours  —  est-ce  que  je  sais  —  but 
marry?  What!  You  are  mad!" 

"  I  mean  it." 

"No,  impossible!  Marry  one  of  us  —  an  actress 
—  you  —  a  nice  boy  ?  Allans  done.  You  ought  to 
be  shut  up.  Marry  Charters.  You  might  just  as 
well  marry  Emma  Fornez,  and  when  I  say  that  — 
oh,  la,  la !  My  poor  boy,  I  pity  you !  " 

"  But  you  all  marry." 

"  True.  But  what  difference  does  it  make  to  us  ?  " 
she  threw  out  her  chin,  the  gesture  of  the  peasant. 
"  You  are  serious  ?  " 

"  Very." 

"  Let  me  talk  to  you.  I  have  only  a  minute.  My 
masseuse  is  coming  and  in  America  one  doesn't  re 
ceive  with  a  masseuse  —  enfin.  Listen  to  me  well. 
You  want  to  marry  seriously  —  for  good,  then  ? 
Children  and  all  the  rest?  Well,  my  boy,  you  might 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  363 

just  as  well  marry  Emma  Fornez  and  expect  her  to 
spend  her  days  over  a  ragout  as  to  marry  Charters. 
Will  she  give  up  her  career  ?  " 

"  We  haven't  thought  of  that." 

"  It  makes  no  difference.  On  the  stage,  off  the 
stage,  it's  the  same  thing.  She  won't  change.  Do 
you  want  to  play  the  part  of  a  valet,  a  little  dancing 
dog,  heinf  For  that's  just  what  you'll  be;  and  one 
of  twenty.  For  she's  used  to  crowds  of  men.  She 
won't  change.  Love,  my  dear  boy,  is  madness,  hal 
lucination,  you  are  drunk;  but  everything  returns  as 
it  was  before  —  believe  me.  If  I  were  a  man  I'd 
never  fall  in  love  with  a  woman  until  I  married  her 
—  it's  easy  enough  then.  You  would  know  what 
you're  getting!  " 

The  masseuse  came  in,  sliding  on  tiptoe  from  one 
door  to  another. 

"  Victorine  —  ma  masseuse!  In  a  minute,  in  a 
minute,  Madame  Tenier.  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  min 
ute.  Where  was  I?  Teddy,  you  do  not  know  us 
professional  women  —  we  are  wrestlers,  we  are  al 
ways  struggling  with  you  men  —  I  warn  you.  No 
two  ways.  She  will  never  be  happy,  my  dear  boy  — 
because  she  never  is  happy.  We  are  never  happy,  or 
we  would  not  be  what  we  are.  And  what  of  moods, 
day  in  and  day  out.  Tiens  —  I'll  tell  you  what  you'll 
be  —  another  Victorine.  Victorine,  ou  diable  es-tuf 
No,  no,  Teddy ;  don't  be  a  big  fool ;  don't  be  an  idiot. 
You  are  so  nice.  You  can  amuse  yourself  so  well. 
Don't  put  your  head  in  a  noose.  If  she  loves  you 
now,  she  won't  to-morrow;  she  can't  help  it.  Then 


364  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

where'll  you  be  —  in  the  soup,  hem.  And  she  ?  No, 
no,  believe  me,  Teddy,  never  marry,  in  the  first 
place,  and  then  never  marry  one  of  us." 

"  There's  something  in  what  she  says,"  thought 
Beecher,  as  he  moodily  descended  in  the  elevator. 
"  She  knows  her  own  kind  better  than  I  do." 

He  looked  undecidedly  at  the  clock  and  went  to 
pay  a  dinner  call  on  Mrs.  Craig  Fontaine.  In  ten 
minutes  they  were  on  the  same  subject. 

"  I  am  terribly  upset,"  said  the  young  widow. 
"  I  don't  want  any  trouble  to  come  to  you,  and  I  can't 
help  thinking  that  what  you  are  considering  is  a  very 
risky  step.  In  the  first  place,  Teddy,  you  are  too 
young." 

He  made  a  movement  of  impatience  at  this  repeti 
tion,  which  had  begun  to  offend  his  sense  of  dig 
nity. 

"  You  don't  know  what  is  ahead,"  she  said  warmly. 
"  You  do  not  realize  that  points  of  view  change. 
What  you  seek  now,  romance,  adventure,  is  not  what 
you'll  seek  at  thirty-five,  and  life  is  mostly  after 
thirty-five,  Ted.  Today  you  are  willing  to  sacri 
fice  every  friend  in  the  world  for  one  love;  tomor 
row  you  will  realize  that  friends  are  our  life,  their 
ways,  their  companionship,  their  interests.  Today 
you  hold  yourself  very  cheaply;  tomorrow  you  will 
wake  up,  look  round  you,  see  what  other  women  have 
brought  to  their  husbands,  and  you  will  say,  '  What 
am  I  worth  ?  '  " 

"  You  believe  in  mercenary  marriages,  then  ?  "  he 
said  irritably. 

"  No,  but  I  believe  in  staying  in  the  same  society 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  365 

in  which  you  belong.  I  don't  want  to  be  cruel,  but 
Miss  Charters  is  of  another  world.  I  know  there  is 
nothing  against  her.  She  may  be  able  to  enter  your 
world,  and  then  again  she  may  not  want  to  —  may 
prefer  the  freedom  of  her  own,  and  you  will  follow 
her.  Have  you  thought  of  that?  Your  friends 
must  be  your  wife's  friends,  or  you  will  give  them 
up.  Marriage,  Teddy,  which  can  be  the  most  de 
cisive  act  in  a  man's  life,  is  the  one  he  throws  away 
the  most  lightly.  I'm  only  afraid  you  may  wake  up 
to  what  you  might  have  done,  Teddy.  You  are 
young,  eager,  you  are  not  yet  bored.  You  may  feel 
the  desire  to  be  something,  to  do  something  that 
counts  in  your  life.  I  don't  want  you  then  to  wake 
up  and  realize  that  another  marriage  might  have 
given  you  the  connections  you  wanted,  the  added  op 
portunity.  At  this  moment  marriage  appears  to  you 
the  only  thing  that  counts ;  you  will  realize  some  day 
that  it  is  the  least  thing  in  it."  She  smiled,  as  he 
looked  amazed,  and  added:  "  No  amount  of  discus 
sion  can  make  you  understand  these  things  —  they 
must  be  lived.  But,  Teddy,  before  you  leap,  ask 
yourself  seriously  what  you  are  worth." 

When  he  left  Mrs.  Fontaine's  presence,  he  did  so 
with  lagging  steps.  The  advice  of  these  three 
women,  so  various  and  viewing  life  from  such  di 
vergent  points  of  view,  profoundly  impressed  him. 

He  tried  to  argue  against  what  had  been  told  him, 
and  as  this  process  irritated  him  beyond  measure,  he 
broke  off,  acknowledging  their  superior  insight. 

But  all  at  once  he  stopped  short,  enlightened  by  a 
sudden  reflection. 


366  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"If  what  they  say  is  true  .  .  .  why  did  they  all 
marry  ?  " 

This  answer,  which  might  seem  no  ansv/er  at  all, 
appeared  to  the  mind  of  the  lover,  which  is  to  say  to 
the  mind  seeking  to  be  convinced,  so  complete  and 
startling  a  refutation,  that  he  swung  on  his  heel,  and 
went  directly  to  offer  himself  to  Miss  Charters. 


EPILOGUE 

THREE  years  after  the  close  of  these  events 
there  were  gathered  in  a  box  of  the  Metro 
politan  Opera,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gunther,  senior,  the. 
Teddy  Beechers,  Bruce  Gunther  and  a  Miss  Clarice 
Fanning,  of  the  Virginia  Fannings,  a  young  girl  de 
mure,  direct,  with  already  in  the  youthful  instincts 
of  her  pose  more  than  a  suggestion  of  the  dignity 
and  elegance  which  would  come  to  grace  the  woman. 
From  time  to  time,  by  a  little  movement  of  her  fan, 
she  brought  to  her  shoulder  for  a  whispered  com 
ment  Bruce  Gunther,  who,  though  he  had  seated 
himself  behind  Mrs.  Beecher,  was  compensated  by 
the  advantage  of  thus  exchanging  glances.  All 
these  little  messages,  which  the  young  girl  flattered 
herself  were  so  cleverly  executed  as  to  remain  in 
visible,  were  seen  by  every  one  in  the  box  with  dis 
creet  enjoyment. 

At  the  end  of  the  act  the  two  young  men  excused 
themselves  and  departed  to  make  a  round  of  visits. 

"  Nan's  charming,  Ted,"  said  Gunther,  who  saw 
them  both  for  the  first  time  since  their  long  stay 
in  Europe.  He  added  with  the  extra  enthusiasm  with 
which  a  man  of  the  world  conveys  his  surprise  at 
an  unexpected  development :  "  By  George !  she  has 
the  manners  of  a  duchess!  The  governor,  crabby 
old  critic,  too,  is  quite  won  over  by  her." 

"  She   has   developed  beautifully,"   said   Beecher, 

367 


288  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

with  a  certain  proprietary  responsibility  which  young 
husbands  feel  deeply.  "  She  is  a  remarkable  woman ! 
.  .  .  remarkable !  " 

"  Well,  you  fooled  all  the  prophets,"  said  Gunther 
in  his  blunt  way. 

"How  so?" 

"  We  gave  you  a  year,  at  the  most,"  said  Gunther 
who  stopped  short  and  looked  at  his  friend  as  though 
to  ask  the  explanation  of  such  a  miracle. 

"  My  wife  adores  me,"  said  Beecher,  with  a  smile. 

Gunther  smiled  to  himself  and  thought  that  if  the 
wife  had  developed  as  though  by  right  into  the  sure 
and  brilliant  woman  of  the  world,  the  husband  at 
heart  had  retained  the  same  boyish  irreverence  of 
the  mysterious  depths  of  life. 

"  You  ought  to  get  into  something,  Ted,"  he  said 
abruptly.  "  You  can't  loaf  in  America !  .  .  .  I'll 
give  you  an  opening." 

"  That's  why  the  Missus  brought  me  back,"  said 
Beecher.  "  Look  out,  I  may  take  up  that  offer!  " 

This  reply,  unconsciously  delivered,  gave  Gunther 
the  first  glimpse  of  light  into  the  perplexing  success 
of  his  friend's  marriage. 

"  Well,  where's  the  first  call  ?  "  he  said,  registering 
in  his  mind  this  last  perception. 

"  I  want  to  drop  in  on  Mrs.  Fontaine,  Mrs.  Slade," 
...  he  considered  a  moment  and  added,  "  Mrs. 
Bloodgood,  too,  I  am  anxious  to  see  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  forget  Emma  Fornez  .  .  .  you  ought  to 
go  behind,"  said  Gunther,  for  the  opera  was  Car- 
men. 

"Yes,"    said    Beecher,    with    a    little    hesitation. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  369 

"  Next  act  ...  Let's  drop  in  on  Louise  Fontaine, 
first  .  .  ." 

"  There  are  reasons  .  .  .  just  at  present  .  .  ." 
said  Gunther  with  a  slight  frown.  "  Anyhow,  here's 
Slade's  box  —  let's  begin  here." 

Mrs.  Slade  at  their  entrance  rose  directly,  and 
came  to  meet  them  in  the  antechamber. 

"  How  nice  of  you  to  come  here  first,"  she  said 
with  genuine  pleasure,  extending  both  her  hands. 
"  Mr.  Gunther,  go  into  the  box  ...  I  want  a  few 
minutes  alone  with  Teddy !  "  She  turned  to  Beecher, 
motioning  him  to  a  seat  on  the  cushioned  settee  in 
the  little  pink  and  white  room  that  was  like  a  jewel 
box.  "  I  saw  you  at  once  .  .  .  Your  wife  has  made 
a  sensation ! " 

"It  is  you,  Rita,  who  are  astonishing!"  he  said 
abruptly. 

"  How  so?"  she  said,  already  comprehending  the 
frank  wonder  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  always  did  fascinate  us,  you  know/'  he  said, 
reclining  a  bit,  the  better  to  take  in  the  elegant  sinu 
osities  of  her  pose.  "  But  that  was  nothing  to  you 
now  .  .  .  You  are  the  opera  itself! " 

"  Not  quite  yet,"  she  said,  with  a  confident  little 
bob  of  the  head.  She  added,  "  I  am  happy !  " 

In  truth,  just  as  men  of  conscious  greatness  who, 
in  the  period  of  their  struggles,  have  a  certain  brusque 
and  impatient  unease,  suddenly  in  the  day  of  their 
success  acquire  a  dignity  and  a  radiating  charm  that 
astonishes,  so  in  her  a  similar  transformation  had 
operated.  The  old  feline  restlessness,  the  swift  and 
nervous  changes  from  Slavic  somnolence  to  sparkling 


870  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

energy,  had  been  subdued  in  a  clear  serenity,  and  as 
she  received  the  flattering  tribute  of  the  young  man 
who  had  been  associated  with  her  period  of  uncer 
tainty,  there  was  in  her  smile  a  new  graciousness 
that  was  not  without  its  authority. 

"  You  too  are  happy !  —  it  shows !  "  she  said  after 
the  moment  which  she  allowed  Beecher  to  study 
her. 

"Very!" 

"You  have  children?" 

"  Two."  Then  recalling  with  a  little  pardonable 
malice  the  intention  of  his  visit,  he  said :  "  You  were 
a  bad  prophet,  Rita !  .  .  .  You  remember  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"Well?  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  I  underestimated  your  intelligence,  my  dear 
Teddy,"  she  said,  with  a  fugitive  smile.  "  You  are 
settling  in  America?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Missus  has  planned  to  make  me  a  cap 
tain  of  finance,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "  However, 
I  am  ready  for  something  active." 

"  Tell  your  wife,"  she  said  irrelevantly,  "  that  I 
will  come  to  see  her  after  the  next  act.  My  husband 
returns  tomorrow  .  .  .  save  the  night  after  for  us 
...  I  want  to  be  as  good  a  friend  to  her  as  you 
have  been  to  me !  .  .  .  Give  my  message  exactly !  " 

"I  promise!" 

All  at  once  his  eyes,  which  had  been  searching, 
rested  on  her  left  hand.  On  the  fourth  finger, 
guarded  by  the  gold  band  of  her  marriage,  was  the 
ruby  ring. 

"  It's  the  same,  isn't  it?  "  he  asked. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  371 

"  I  always  wear  it,"  she  said,  raising  it  to  her 
eyes.  "  It  is  a  fetish." 

"  We  ran  across  Garraboy  a  couple  of  times  .  .  . 
He  married  her,  you  know." 

"  She  married  him,  you  mean  .  .  ." 

'  Yes,  that  would  be  more  correct  .  .  .  watches 
the  beggar  like  a  hound  ...  a  pleasant  life  he  has 
of  it !  ...  By  the  way,  did  the  story  about  the  ring 
ever  leak  out  ?  " 

"  Never ! "  She  rose,  as  though  feeling  the 
end  of  the  intermission.  "  Tell  me  one  thing, 
Teddy.  .  .  ." 

"  A  dozen !  " 

"  Did  you  tell  your  wife  I  advised  you  not  to 
marry  ?  " 

"Never!" 

"Don't!  .  .  .  There  are  chings  a  woman  doesn't 
forgive,  and  I  want  to  be  good  friends !  " 

Beecher  nodded. 

Gunther  came  out,  and  she  gave  them  her  fingers, 
remaining  tall  and  stately,  her  head  inclined  a  little 
pensively,  until  they  had  left. 

"Most  remarkable  woman  here!"  said  Gunther 
briefly.  "  In  a  year  or  so  more  she'll  be  the  undis 
puted  leader." 

"  What  about  John  G.  ?  " 

"  The  coming  man.  You  know  we're  in  close  re 
lations  with  him.  The  Governor  has  a  great  admira 
tion  for  him,  and  you  know  it  isn't  often  the  Gov 
ernor  is  taken  that  way !  " 

"What's  he  doing?" 

"  Railroad     unification,     territorial     development 


372  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

.  .  .  only  man  in  this  country  who  can  appreciate 
what  the  Canadian  Pacific  is  doing ! " 

"  I  thought  he  was  considered  rather  a  free 
booter?" 

"  So  he  was.  Big  men  change  when  they  get 
what  they  want.  He  had  an  interview  with  the  old 
man,  and  laid  his  cards  on  the  table.  Governor  said 
it  was  the  frankest  confidence  he'd  ever  heard.  When 
he  went  into  the  railroad  field,  it  was  at  the  mercy 
of  a  lot  of  clever  little  stock-jobbers,  who  were  play 
ing  it  like  a  game  of  roulette.  Slade's  driven  'em 
out,  broken  their  backs,  bankrupted  them  ...  Oh! 
he  strikes  hard!  .  .  .  Now  there's  a  real  railroad 
policy,  with  a  national  object." 

"  You  seem  quite  enthusiastic  over  him  yourself," 
said  Beecher,  glancing  at  the  plates  on  the  boxes. 

"  I  am.  He's  a  constructive  .  .  .  that's  what  we 
want!" 

"  When  did  all  this  happen?  " 

"  A  couple  of  months  after  that  affair  of  the  At 
lantic  Trust." 

Beecher  stopped,  and  with  a  gesture  showed  his 
companion  a  plate  on  which  was  inscribed: 

ENOS  BLOODGOOD. 

"  I  never  can  forget  Majendie  that  night,"  he  said, 
sobered  by  the  recollection  of  the  events  in  which 
he  had  been  such  an  agitated  spectator.  "  By  Jove, 
he  was  true  blue !  " 

"If  he'd  had  the  nerve  to  face  the  music  he'd  be 
a  rich  man  to-day,"  said  Gunther,  meditatively. 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  373 

"  The  Atlantic  Trust  is  stronger  than  ever.  Of 
course,  technically,  Majendie  did  things  he  had  no 
right  to  do,  but  do  you  know,  every  investment  he 
made  has  turned  out  enormously  profitable!  Queer 
how  one  man  drops  out  and  another  pops  up." 

"  I  wonder  how  much  of  it  was  business,  and 
how  much  was  .  .  ."  Beecher  broke  off  and  a  sec 
ond  time  gestured  in  the  direction  of  the  box. 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  said  Gunther,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders. 

Beecher  glanced  down  the  corridor  to  assure  him 
self  there  was  yet  time,  and  opened  the  door. 

In  the  front  row  of  the  box  Mrs.  Bloodgood  was 
laughing  gaily  with  three  or  four  young  men  who 
were  bending  flatteringly  over  her.  In  the  back 
Bloodgood  was  seated,  dozing  in  a  corner.  Beecher 
hardly  recognized  him.  Of  the  once  rugged  physique 
nothing  remained  but  a  senile  fluttering.  Some  mys 
terious  disease  had  struck  him  down  and  marked  his 
hours.  At  this  moment  Mrs.  Bloodgood,  aware  of  a 
shadow  in  the  doorway,  turned  and  met  the  profound 
and  memory-troubled  gaze  of  the  young  man.  She 
recognized  him  and  in  the  same  moment  divined  his 
thoughts.  By  a  movement  which  she  could  not  con 
trol,  she  brought  her  fan,  which  had  been  extended 
in  a  tantalizing  gesture  under  the  eyes  of  one  of  her 
satellites,  into  a  protective  barrier,  as  though  to  shield 
herself  from  the  too  frank  melancholy  of  this  dis 
turbing  gaze.  Their  eyes  met.  Beecher  inclined  his 
head.  It  was  at  the  same  time  a  salutation  and  an 
adieu. 

He  found  Gunther  outside  their  box. 


374  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  The  old  fellow's  in  a  pretty  bad  way/'  said  his 
friend,  noticing  his  disturbed  look. 

"It  wasn't  that!  .  .  ." 

"  Yes, —  she's  taking  her  revenge !  "  said  Gunther 
with  a  laugh. 

To  shake  off  this  impression  Beecher  touched  his 
friend  on  the  arm,  and  forcing  a  smile,  said,  with  a 
nod  towards  the  box  where  Miss  Fanning  was  wait 
ing: 

"  So  it's  serious,  Bruce?" 

"  But  not  for  publication  .  .  ."  said  Gunther  with 
a  nod. 

Beecher  would  have  liked  to  put  a  further  ques 
tion,  one  which  had  presented  itself  already  at  the 
thought  of  Louise  Fontaine;  but  he  refrained,  for  he 
was  aware  in  his  friend  of  a  certain  new  grimness 
and  implacability  of  purpose  which,  as  in  his  father, 
had  the  effect  of  withdrawing  him  from  the  ordinary 
club  familiarity. 

After  the  second  act  he  went  behind  the  scenes  to 
greet  Emma  Fornez,  who  had  just  received  an  ova 
tion. 

The  diva,  with  the  same  cry  of  delight  in  which 
she  recognized  him,  asked  him  what  he  thought  of 
her  success. 

"  You  have  reached  the  top.  .  .  .  Every  new 
Carmen  must  now  be  advertised  as  greater  than 
Emma  Fornez !  "  he  answered  with  a  bow. 

"  Ah,  you  have  learned  how  to  make  compliments ! 
.  .  .  Bravo ! "  she  exclaimed.  She  advanced  her 
head,  pointing  to  a  little  spot  under  her  jeweled  ear. 
"  There !  .  .  .  your  recompense !  .  .  .  You  look  as 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  375 

big  a  boy  as  ever !  .  .  .  Tell  me  everything  —  all  at 
once!  .  .  .  Victorine,  close  the  door.  I  see  no  one 
—  tu  m'entends?  ...  I  am  too  red  tonight,  hein?  " 

"  Not  from  the  boxes !  " 

"  Si,  si!  ...  I  must  be  more  pale  ...  Sit  down, 
sit  down !  "  She  enveloped  her  shoulders  in  a  shawl, 
and  studied  her  face  in  the  flashing  mirror,  pulling 
her  make-up  box  towards  her.  "  You  have  come 
back  ...  for  good.  Teddy?" 

"Yes!" 

"  You  are  always  married  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"That's  a  pity  —  enfin!  .  .  .  Happy?" 

"Very!" 

"  Too  bad !  .  .  .  And  you  have  come  pour  tirer 
la  langue  a  Emma  Fornez  .  .  .  who  tried  to  frighten 
you!  " 

"  Exactly!  "  said  Beecher,  laughing. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  so  conceited  about  it!  If 
you  are  still  living  together  —  it  is  because  .  .  ."  she 
stopped  a  moment  to  correct  the  beady  fringe  of  the 
eyes,  "  because  your  wife  is  a  very,  very  clever 
woman !  " 

"What?" 

"Oh,  just  that!  .  .  .  and  because  she  finds  she 
can  lead  you  around  conveniently  by  the  nose  .  .  . 
just  so!  "  She  leaned  over  and  illustrated  her  mean 
ing  with  a  little  tweak  before  he  could  defend  him 
self. 

"  I  see,  you  are  quite  furious  that  we  are  not  di 
vorced  ! " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 


376  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

"  How  many  months  is  it?  .  .  ." 

"  Three  years  .  .  .  Three  and  a  half!  " 

"Bah!  there  is  still  hope!" 

To  tease  her  for  this,  he  drew  back,  grinning  with 
elation. 

"  Oh,  you  are  having  a  beautiful  time  of  it! "  she 
said,  watching  him  in  the  mirror.  "  It  amuses  you 
very  much !  .  .  .  But  just  you  wait !  "  She  raised 
her  hand,  counting  the  ringers.  "  Three,  four,  five 
—  five  years !  That  is  the  worst  bridge  of  all !  .  .  . 
Even  my  old  Jacquot  —  poor  soul  —  stood  me  for 
five  years !  .  .  .  Just  wait !  "  Then,  struck  by  a 
sudden  reflection,  she  proceeded  to  revenge  herself. 
"If  you  are  happy,  I  was  right,  after  all!  You  re 
member  .  .  .  first  time  I  saw  Charters  ...  I  said 
*  it  is  not  an  actress,  it  is  a  woman !  *  .  .  ."  She 
emphasized  the  point  with  a  satisfied  shrug.  "  I  was 
right,  and  there  you  are !  " 

"  Well,  Emma,  don't  let's  fight,"  he  said,  hugely 
amused.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again !  " 

"  I,  too,"  she  said,  tapping  his  arm,  and  turning 
her  darkened  face  towards  him  for  better  inspection. 
"  Better  so,  heinf  ...  So  you  are  rich  now,  Teddy 
.  .  .  An  uncle  was  good  enough  to  die  ?  " 

"Two!  .  .  ." 

"  Ah !  .  .  .  what  a  pity !  .  .  .  And  now  you  are 
spoiled  1 "  She  began  to  soften  the  shadows  of  the 
eyes.  "  Tell  me  one  thing  .  .  ." 

"Yes?  .  .  ." 

"You  .  .  .  you  did  not  tell  her  —  the  wife  — 
about  our  little  conspiracy  ?  —  the  night  of  the  cow 
boy  party,  heinf  .  .  ."  As  he  hesitated  she  caught 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  377 

the  accusatory  look  in  his  eyes,  and  she  wheeled  about. 
"Comment!  .  .  .  You  were  so  stupid!  .  .  .  Dieu! 
que  les  hommes  sont  sots! " 

"  Nonsense !  .  .  .  she  laughed  over  it ! "  he  said, 
recovering  himself.  "  Besides,  she  had  guessed  it 
already !" 

"  My  dear  Teddy,"  she  said,  in  very  bad  humor, 
"  I  take  back  all  I  said  .  .  .  You  were  born  a  hus 
band  —  typical !  ideal !  —  You  would  be  content  with 
any  one!  .  .  .  with  Victorine,  even!" 

She  flung  the  rabbit's  foot  furiously  among  the 
pigments. 

"Allans,  we  might  just  as  well  say  adieu! " 

"Why?" 

"  She  does  not  know  you  have  come  ?  " 

"  No,  but  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  well  .  .  .  don't  be  fool  enough  to  tell  her ! 
.  .  .  Go  right  back  now.  Make  a  call  in  some  box 
where  she  can  see  you,  and  escape  a  good  .  .  ."  She 
stopped,  shaking  her  hand  in  the  direction  of  his  ear. 

"  You  are  mistaken !  "  he  began,  flushing.  "  You 
don't  know  her  .  .  ." 

"  Mistaken  .  .  .  tra-la-la !  .  .  .  and  I  know  her ! 
...  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  see  you,  my  poor  Teddy, 
to  understand  .  .  .  absolutely  ...  in  every  little  de 
tail  .  .  .  the  woman  who  makes  you  so  ...  So  — 
adieu!" 

"  It  is  not  as  tragic  as  all  that,"  he  said,  laughing, 
but  giving  his  hand. 

"Adieu!  .  .  .  adieu!" 

"  I  may  come  back  .  .  .  when  I  am  divorced  ?  " 

"  That  will  never  happen !  "  she  persisted,  vindic- 


378  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

tively.  "  She  has  tamed  you  .  .  .  you  are  a  domes 
tic  animal  ...  a  house  pet  ...  like  the  cat  and  the 
poodle  dog ! " 

"  Ait  revoir,  Emma,"  he  said,  refusing  to  be  irri 
tated. 

"  Not  good-by!  "  She  took  up  a  thread,  broke  it 
with  a  vicious  jerk,  and  let  the  ends  float  away. 
"  Victorine,  depeche-toi  done!" 

Beecher,  who  had  started  with  the  intention  of  ex 
tracting  a  legitimate  revenge,  had  received  little  satis 
faction  from  his  two  interviews.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  not  so  nai've  as  to  reject  Emma  Fornez's  advice. 
He  went  directly  to  Mrs.  Craig  Fontaine's  box. 
Louise,  as  though  she  had  waited  impatiently  his 
coming,  started  at  once  from  her  chair,  meeting  him 
in  the  privacy  of  the  antechamber.  He  was  struck 
at  once  by  the  constrained  tensity  of  her  glance. 

"  You  are  in  the  Gunthers'  box,"  she  said,  directly 
the  first  greetings  were  over.  "  Where  is  Bruce  ? 
Why  didn't  he  come  with  you  ?  " 

"  We  separated.  I  went  behind  to  see  Madame 
Fornez  .  .  ."  he  said  lamely. 

She  was  not  deceived  by  his  answer,  made  a  rapid 
calculation  and  said  abruptly: 

"Teddy,  tell  me  the  truth.  Don't  refuse  me! 
.  .  .  You  may  be  doing  me  a  favor  .  .  .  the  great 
est!  ...  Is  Bruce  engaged?  That  little  girl  in  the 
box?" 

Between  them  there  had  been  the  fullest  loyalty, 
and  a  confidence  since  school  days.  He  was  not  ig 
norant,  therefore,  of  her  infatuation  for  his  friend, 
though  what  dramatic  turn  it  might  have  taken  in 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  379 

the  years  of  his  absence,  he  could  only  speculate. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  to  be  known 
.  .  .  With  you,  Louise,  it  is  different:  you  ought  to 
know!" 

She  sat  down,  and  he  was  frightened  by  the  swift, 
ashen  pallor  that  rushed  into  her  face.  Alarmed,  he 
made  a  movement  towards  her. 

"  Wait !  "  she  said,  faintly.  "  There  are  two  ques 
tions  I  must  ask  .  .  .  Did  he,  Bruce,  send  you  to 
tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  ."  He  hesitated,  surprised  at  the  ques 
tion,  adding:  "That  is,  I  think  not.  ..." 

"  Is  it  to  be  public  —  immediately  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  once  ...  I  am  sure  of  that! " 

She  nodded  her  head  with  a  little  relief,  and,  in 
capable  of  speech,  raised  her  hand  weakly  as  though 
to  excuse  herself,  then  laid  it  over  her  heart.  He 
rose,  turning  his  back,  steadying  himself.  At  the  end 
of  a  long  moment  she  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  I  will  come  .  .  .  tomorrow  .  .  .  and  call  on 
your  wife,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  Give  her  my  very 
best  wishes,  will  you?  .  .  .  And  .  .  .  thank  you! 
.  .  .  You  have  done  me  a  great  service!  .  .  ." 

When  he  reached  his  box  Bruce  was  waiting  for 
him. 

"You  saw  Louise?"  he  said  directly. 

"Yes!" 

"You  told  her?" 

"  Yes,  I  told  her." 

"That  was  right!" 

They  hesitated  a  moment,  one  whether  to  ques 
tion,  the  other  whether  to  explain. 


380  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECONH 

"  I  admire  her  as  much  as  any  woman,"  said  Gun- 
ther,  at  last.  "  She  made  only  one  blunder  .  .  . 
At  that,  Fate  was  against  her." 

This  answer,  and  the  way  it  was  delivered,  was  all 
that  Beecher  was  permitted  to  understand  of  an  epi 
sode  which  deserves  a  novel  to  itself.  Nevertheless, 
he  felt  that  there  must  have  been  something  far  out 
of  the  ordinary  to  have  brought  forth  from  Gunther 
this  eulogy,  which  sounded  at  the  moment  like  an 
epitaph. 

When  Beecher  entered  the  lights  were  up  on  the 
act.  During  the  time  in  which  he  had  been  absent, 
his  wife,  too,  had  been  a  prey  to  dramatic  moods. 
The  stage  and  the  world  had  been  before  her  eyes 
as  the  choices  of  her  own  life.  She  comprehended 
what  Beecher  did  not,  all  the  advantages  of  her  first 
appearance  in  New  York  under  the  patronage  of  the 
Gunthers,  that  was  in  itself  a  social  cachet.  Mrs. 
Slade's  flattering  visit,  as  well  as  the  accented  cor 
diality  of  acquaintances  who  had  bowed  to  her  from 
their  boxes,  made  her  feel  how  easy  would  be  her 
way  in  this  world,  so  easy  of  access  by  one  entrance 
and  so  hostile  by  a  thousand  others.  She  was  satis 
fied.  Her  doubts,  if  she  had  yielded  to  them  a  mo 
ment,  were  gone.  She  had  talked  to  Gunther  of  what 
she  wanted  for  her  husband,  and  made  of  him  a 
friend,  not  insensible  to  the  reason  of  the  charm  which 
she  had  exerted.  But  in  the  moment  in  which  the 
social  world  presented  itself  to  her  as  the  endless 
stretching  Pacific  flashed  upon  the  dazzled  eyes  of 
Balboa,  she  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  loneliness  and  the 
need  of  support.  She  rested  her  hand  on  the  strong- 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  381 

muscled  arm  of  her  husband,  and  designating  with  a 
smile  the  young  girl  who  was  so  artlessly  and  artfully 
conveying  her  impatient  delight  at  Bruce's  return, 
she  sent  her  husband  one  of  those  looks  which  only 
a  perfectly  happy  woman  has  the  power  to  retain 
.  .  .  that  first  fugitive,  timid  offering  in  the  eyes  of 
lovers. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Craig  Fontaine's  engagement 
was  announced  in  all  the  papers.  It  was  a  romance 
of  long  standing  .  .  .  the  engagement  now  made 
public  for  the  first  time  was  supposed  to  have  lasted 
several  months,  etc. 

Mrs.  Slade  had  more  than  fulfilled  her  promise 
towards  McKenna.  Through  her  active  friendship 
not  only  had  he  secured  the  entire  patronage  of  her 
husband,  but  had  finally  acquired  the  coveted  field  of 
the  Bankers'  Association  of  America,,  His  agency 
had  tripled  in  its  ramifications  and  its  power.  This 
man,  who  perceived  clearly  all  the  relative,  often  con 
fusing,  shades  of  morality,  was  at  the  bottom  an 
idealist.  He  undertook  two  great  campaigns:  one 
which  resulted  in  the  exposing  of  the  mysterious 
suzerainty  over  corrupt  politics  of  a  group  of  out 
wardly  respectable  capitalists;  and  the  other  in  the 
purification  of  a  great  labor  union  from  a  band  of 
terrorists,  who  were  betraying  their  ideals  and  selling 
their  sympathies.  He  had  still  one  ambition,  which 
he  had  confided  alone  to  Mrs.  Slade,  to  whom  he  was 
able  to  render  in  this  period  two  invaluable  services  — 
he  wished  one  day  to  become  Police  Commissioner 


38£  THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND 

of  New  York  City,  and  create,  in  that  cemetery  of 
reputations,  a  great  police  system  that  would  vie  with 
the  systems  of  Paris  and  London. 

Often  Bruce  Gunther  would  run  into  his  office  at 
the  close  of  the  afternoon.  He  appreciated  the  in 
tegrity  of  the  detective,  and  he  used  him  as  he  was 
learning  to  use  many  men  ...  as  so  many  windows 
through  which  to  look  out  on  life.  Gunther  had  not 
been  entirely  the  dupe  of  Rita  Kildair's  explanation 
as  to  the  theft  of  the  ring.  Above  the  mantelpiece 
in  the  inner  office  of  McKenna,  framed  in  simple 
passe-partout,  hung  the  two  clippings  of  the  same 
date :  one  the  bare  statement  of  the  bank's  support  of 
the  Associated  Trust,  and  underneath  the  engage 
ment  of  Rita  Kildair  and  John  G.  Slade. 

These  dramatically  aligned  scraps  of  information 
for  the  public,  never  ceased  to  intrigue  him.  Many 
a  time  he  considered  a  direct  question,  but  refrained 
from  respect.  One  day,  however,  pushed  to  the 
verge  by  his  curiosity,  he  said  abruptly: 

"  McKenna,  are  you  going  to  write  your  memoirs, 
some  day  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  —  some  day !  " 

"  You  ought  to  —  Publication  fifty  years  from 
now." 

"  May  be  .  .  .  may  be ! " 

"  And  that  affair  of  the  ring,"  said  Gunther,  point 
ing  to  the  notices.  "  Will  you  tell  the  truth  about 
that?" 

"  What !    Write  down  my  mistakes  ?  " 

"Was  it  a  mistake?" 

McKenna  nodded,  gazing  at  the  mantelpiece  medi« 


THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND  383 

tatively,  with  an  expression  that  was  indecipherable. 

"Bad  mistake!" 

"  But  I  should  say  one  of  those  failures  that  are 
sometimes  rather  fortunate  ?  "  persisted  Gunther. 

"  Well,  it's  a  good  thing  to  know  how  to  turn  a 
failure  to  account.  That's  why  a  few  of  us  get 
ahead,"  said  McKenna  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  but 
for  a  moment  Gunther  seemed  to  perceive  the  faint 
est  trace  of  a  smile,  lurking  maliciously  in  the  cor 
ners  of  his  eyes. 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Abner  Daniel Will  N.  Harben 

Adventures  of  Gerard A.  Conan  Doyle 

Adventures  of  a  Modest  Man R.  W.  Chambers 

Adventures  of  Sherlock  Holmes A.  Conan  Doyle 

After  House,  The Mary  Roberts  Rinehart 

Ailsa  Paige Robert  W.  Chambers 

Alternative,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Alton  of  Somasco Harold  Bindloss 

Amateur  Gentleman,  The Jeffery  Farnol 

Andrew  The  Glad Maria  Thompson  Daviess 

Ann  Boyd Will  N.  Harben 

Annals  of  Ann,  The Kate  T.  Sharber 

Anna  the  Adventuress E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Armchair  at  the  Inn,  The F.  Hopkinson  Smith 

Ariadne  of  Allan  Water Sidney  McCall 

At  the  Age  of  Eve Kate  T.  Sharber 

At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius Augusta  Evans  Wilson 

Auction  Block,  The Rex  Beach 

Aunt  Jane  of  Kentucky Eliza  C.  Hall 

Awakening  of  Helena  Ritchie Margaret  Deland 

Bambi Marforie  Benton  Cooke 

Bandbox,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Barbara  of  the  Snows Harry  Irving  Green 

Bar  20 Clarence  E.  Mulford 

Bar  20  Days Clarence  E.  Mulford 

Barrier,  The Rex  Beach 

Beasts  of  Tarzan,  The Edgar  Rice  Burroughs 

Beechy Bettina  Von  Huttert 

Bella  Donna Robert  Hichens 

Beloved  Vagabond,  The Wm.  J.  Locke 

Ben  Blair Will  Lillibridge 

Beth  Norvell Randall  Parrish 

Betrayal,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Better  Man,  The Cyrus  Townsend  Brady 

Beulah  (111.  Ed) Augusta  J.  Evans 

Black  Is  White George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Blaze  Derringer Eugene  P.  Lyle,  Jr. 

Bob  Hampton  of  Placer Randall  Parrish 

Bob,  Son  of  Battle ' Alfred  Ollivant 

Brass  Bowl,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Britton  of  the  Seventh Cyrus  Toivnsend  Brady 

Broad  Highway,  The Jeffery  Farnol 

Bronze  Bell,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Buck  Peters,  Ranchman Clarence  E.  Mulford 

Business  of  Life,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Butterfly  Man,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

By  Right  of  Purchase Harold  Bindloss 

Cabbages  and  Kings O.  Henry 

Cab  No.  44 R.  F.  Foster 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The Harold  Bell  Wright 

Cape  Cod  Stories Joseph  C  Lincoln 

Cap'n  Eri Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Cap'n  Warren's  Wards Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Carayaners.  .Author  of  Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 

Cardigan Robert  W.  Chambers 

Carmen (Geraldine  Parr  or  Edition) 

Carpet  From  Bagdad,  The Harold  MacGrath 

Cash  Intrigue,  The George  Randolph  Chester 

Castle  by  the  Sea,  The .H.  B.  M.  Watson 

Claw,  The Cynthia  Stockley 

C.  O.  D Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln 

Colonial  Free  Lance,  A Chauncey  O.  Hotchkiss 

Coming  of  the  Law,  The Chas.  A.  Seltzer 

Conquest  of  Canaan,  The Booth  Tarkington 

Conspirators,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Counsel  for  the  Defense Leroy  Scott 

Crime  Doctor,  The E.  W.  Hornung 

Cry  in  the  Wilderness,  A Mary  E.  Waller 

Cynthia  of  the  Minute Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Dark  Hollow,  The Anna  Katharine  Green 

Dave's  Daughter Patience  Bevier  Cole 

Day  of  Days,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Day  of  the  Dog,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Depot  Master,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Desired  Woman,  The Will  N.  Harben 

Destroying  Angel,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Diamond  Master,  The Jacques  Futrelle 

Dixie  Hart Will  N.  Harben 

El  Dorado Baroness  Orczy 

Elusive  Lsabel ,.,,,,,.*....,  .Jacques  Futrelle 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Empty  Pockets Rupert  Hughes 

Enchanted  Hat,  The Harold  MacGrath 

Eye  of  Dread,  The Payne  Erskine 

Eyes  of  the  World,  The Harold  Bell  Wright 

Far  Horizon,  The Lucas  Malet 

54-40  or  Fight Emerson  Hough 

Fighting  Chance,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Financier,  The Theodore  Dreiser 

Flamsted  Quarries Mary  E.  Waller 

Flying  Mercury,  The Eleanor  M.  Ingram 

For  a  Maiden  Brave Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss 

Four  Million,  The O.  Henry 

Four  Pool's  Mystery,  The Jean  Webster 

Fruitful  Vine,  The Robert  Hichens 

Get-Rich-Quick  Wallingford G.  R.  Chester 

Gilbert  Neal Will  N.  Harben 

Girl  From  His  Town,  The Marie  Van  Vorst 

Girl  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  A Payne  Erskine 

Girl  Who  Lived  in  the  Woods,  The M.  B.  Cooke 

Girl  Who  Won,  The Beth  Ellis 

Glory  of  Clementina,  The Wm.  J.  Locke 

Glory  of  the  Conquered,  The Susan  Glaspelt 

God's  Country  and  the  Woman /.  O.  Curwood 

God's  Good  Man Marie  Corelli 

Going  Some Rex  Beach 

Gold  Bag,  The Carolyn  Wells 

Golden  Web,  The Anthony  Partridge 

Gordon  Craig Randall  Parrisk 

Greyfriars  Bobby Eleanor  Atkinson 

Guests  of  Hercules C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Halcyone Elinor  Glyrt 

Happy  Island  (Sequel  to  Uncle  William) /.  Lee 

Havoc E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Heart  of  the  Desert,  The Honore  Willsie 

Heart  of  the  Hills,  The John  Fox,  Jr. 

Heart  of  Philura Florence  Morse  Kingsley 

Heather-Moon,  The C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Her  Infinite  Variety Brand  Whitlock 

Her  Weight  in  Gold George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Herb  of  Grace Rosa  Nouchette  Carey 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Hidden  Children,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Highway  of  Fate,  The Rosa  N.  Carey 

Homesteaders,  The Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles 

Hoosier  Volunteer,  The Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles 

Hopalong  Cassidy Clarence  E.  Mulford 

House  of  Happiness,  The Kate  Langley  Bosher 

House  of  the  Whispering  Pines A.  K.  Green 

Hugh  Wynne,  Free  Quaker 5.  W.  Mitchell,  M.D. 

Husbands  of  Edith,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Illustrious  Prince,  The E  Phillips  Oppenheint 

Imposter,  The John  Reed  Scott 

In  Defiance  of  the  King Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss 

Indifference  of  Juliet,  The Grace  S.  Richmond 

Inez  (111.  Ed.) Augusta  J.  Evans 

Infelice Augusta  Evans  Wilson 

Initials  Only Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Innocent Marie  Corelli 

Intriguers,  The Harold  Bindloss 

Iron  Trail,  The Rex  Beach 

Iron  Woman,  The Margaret  Deland 

Ishmael  (111.) Mrs.  Southworth 

Island  of  Regeneration,  The Cyrus  Townsend  Brady 

island  of  the  Stairs,  The Cyrus  Townsend  Brady 

Japonette Robert  W.  Chambers 

Jane  Cable George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Jennie  Gerhardt Theodore  Dreiser 

Joyful  Heatherby Payne  Erskine 

Jude  the  Obscure Thomas  Hardy 

Judgment  House,  The Gilbert  Parker 

Keith  of  the  Border Randall  Parrish 

Kent  Knowles:  "Quahaug" Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Kingsmead Bettina  Von  Hutten 

Knave  of  Diamonds,  The Ethel  M.  Dell 

Ladder  of  Swords,  A Gilbert  Parker 

Lady  and  the  Pirate,  The. Emerson  Hough 

Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water  C.  AT.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Lady  Merton,  Colonist Mrs.  Humphry  Ward 

Land  of  Long  Ago,  The Eliza  Calvert  Hall 

Last  Shot,  The Frederick  N.  Palmer 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A..  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Last  Trail,  The  (new  edition) Zane  Grey 

Last  Voyage  of  the  Donna  Isabel Randall  Parrish 

Laughing  Cavalier,  The Baroness  Orczy 

Life  Mask,  The Author  of  "To  M.  L.  G." 

Lighted  Way,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Lin  McLean Owen  Wister 

Little  Brown  Jug  at  Kildare Meredith  Nicholson. 

Lone  Wolf,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Lonesome  Land B  M.  Bower 

Lord  Loveland  Discovers  America. 

C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Lorraine Robert  W.  Chambers 

Lost  Ambassador E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Lost  Road,  The Richard  Harding  Davis 

Lost  World,  The A.  Conan  Doyle 

Loves  of  Lady  Arabella Mollie  Elliott  Seawell 

Loves  of  Miss  Anne,  The S.  R.  Crockett 

Love  Under  Fire Randall  Parrish 

Macaria  (111.  Ed.) Augusta  J.  Evans 

Mademoiselle  Celeste Adele  F.  Knight 

Maids  of  Paradise,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Maid  of  the  Forest,  The Randall  Parrish 

Maid  of  the  Whispering  Hills Vingie  E.  Roe 

Mam'  Linda Will  N.  Harben 

Man  Outside,  The Wyndham  Martyn 

Marriage H.  G.   Wells 

Marriage  a  la  Mode Mrs.  Humphry  Ward 

Marriage  of  Theodora,  The Mollie  Elliott  Seawell 

Mary  Moreland Marie  Van  Vorst 

Master  Mummer,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Max Katherine  Cecil  Thurston 

Maxwell  Mystery,  The Carolyn  Wells 

Mediator,  The Roy  Norton 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes A.  Conan  Doyle 

Mischief  Maker,  The £.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Miss  Gibbie  Gault Kate  Langley  Bosher 

Miss  Philura's  Wedding  Gown F.  M.  Kingsley 

Miss  Selina  Lue Maria  Thompson  Daviess 

Molly  McDonald Randall  Parrish 

Money  Moon,  The Jeffery  Farnol 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Motor  Maid,  The C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Moth,  The William  Dana  Orcutt 

Mountain  Girl,  The Payne  Erskine 

Mr.  B ingle George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Mr.  Grex  of  Monte  Carlo E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Mr.  Pratt Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Mr.  Pratt's  Patients Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Mrs.  Red  Pepper Grace  S.  Richmond 

My  Demon  Motor  Boat George  Fitch 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur. .  .  .C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

My  Lady  Caprice Jeffrey  Farnol 

My  Lady  of  Doubt Randall  Parrish 

My  Lady  of  the  North Randall  Parrish 

My  Lady  of  the  South Randall  Parrish 

Mystery  Tales Edgar  Allan  Poe 

Ne'er-Do-Well,  The Rex  Beach 

Net,  The Rex  Beach 

New  Clarion,  The Will  N.  Harben 

Night  Riders,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Night  Watches W.  W.  Jacobs 

Officer  666 B.  W.  Carrie  and  A.  McHugh 

Once  Upon  a  Time Richard  Harding  Davis 

One  Braver  Thing Richard  Dehan 

One  Way  Trail,  The .Ridgivell  Cullum 

Otherwise  Phyllis Meredith  Nicholson 

Out  of  the  Primitive Robert  Ames  Bennet 

Pair  of  Silk  Stockings Cyril  Harcourt 

Palace  of  Darkened  Windows M.  H.  Bradley 

Pardners Rex  Beach 

Parrot  &  Co Harold  MacGrath 

Partners  of  the  Tide Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Passionate  Friends,  The H.  G.  Wells 

Patience  of  John  Moreland,  The Mary  Dillon 

Patrol  of  the  Sun  Dance  Trail Ralph  Connor 

Paul  Anthony,  Christian Hiram  W  Hayes 

People's  Man,  A E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Perch  of  the  Devil Gertrude  Atherton 

Peter  Ruff E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Phillip  Steele James  Oliver  Curwood 

Phra  the  Phoenician Edwin  L.  Arnold 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Pidgin  Island Harold  MacGrath 

Place  of  Honeymoons,  The Harold  MacGrath 

Plunderer,  The Roy  Norton 

Pole  Baker Will  N.  Harben 

Pool  of  Flame,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Polly  of  the  Circus Margaret  Mayo 

Poppy Cynthia  Stockley 

Port  of  Adventure C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Postmaster,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The Grace  McGowan  Cooke 

Price  of  Love,  The Arnold  Bennett 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The Margaret  Hill  McCarter 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A A.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Princess  Dehra,  The John  Reed  Scott 

Princess  Passes,  The C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Princess  Virginia,  The C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Prisoners  of  Chance Randall  Parrish 

Purple  Parasol,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Ranch  at  the  Wolverine,  The B.  M.  Bower 

Ranching  for  Sylvia Harold  Bindloss 

Reason  Why,  The Elinor  Glyn 

Red  Cross  Girl,  The Richard  Harding  Davis 

Redemption  of  Kenneth  Gait Will  N.  Harben 

Red  Lane,  The Holman  Day 

Red  Mist,  The Randall  Parrish 

Red  Mouse,  The Wm.  Hamilton  Osborne 

Red  Pepper  Burns Grace  S.  Richmond 

Red  Republic,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Return  of  Tarzan,  The Edgar  Rice  Burroughs 

Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,  The Anne  Warner 

Rim  of  the  Desert,  The Ada  Woodruff  Anderson 

Rise  of  Roscoe  Paine,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Road  to  Providence Maria  Thompson  Daviess 

Robinetta Kate  Douglas  Wiggin 

Romance  of  a  Plain  Man,  The Ellen  Glasgow 

Rocks  of  Valpre,  The Ethel  M.  Dell 

Rose  in  the  Ring,  The George  Barr  McCutcheon 

Rose  of  the  World Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle 

Rose  of  Old  Harpeth Maria  Thompson  Daviess 

Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street ,Gf  S,  Rkhmond 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Routledge  Rides  Alone Will  L.  Comfort 

St.  Elmo  (111.  Ed.) Augusta  J.  Evans 

Salamander,  The Owen  Johnson 

Second  Violin,  The Grace  S.  Richmond 

Secret  of  the  Reef Harold  Bindloss 

Secrets  of  the  German  War  Office Dr.  A.  K.  Graves 

Seffy John  Luther  Long 

Self-Raised  (111.) Mrs.  Southivorth 

Septimus William  J.  Locke 

Set  in  Silver C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Sharrow Bettina  Von  Hutten 

Shea  of  the  Irish  Brigade Randall  Parrish 

Shepherd  of  the  Hills,  The Harold  Bell  Wright 

Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Ship's  Company W.  W.  Jacobs 

Silver  Horde,  The Rex  Beach 

Simon  the  Jester William  J.  Locke 

Siren  of  the  Snows,  A Stanley  Shaw 

Sir  Richard  Calmady Lucas  Malet 

Sixty-First  Second,  The Owen  Johnson 

Speckled  Bird,  A Augusta  Evans  Wilson 

Slim  Princess,  The George  Ade 

Spirit  in  Prison,  A Robert  Hichens 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The  (new  edition) Zane  Grey 

Spoilers,  The Rex  Beach 

Still  Jim Honore  Willsie 

Stolen  Singer,  The Martha  Bellinger 

Stooping  Lady,  The Maurice  Hewlitt 

Story  of  Marco,  The Eleanor  H.  Porter 

Strange  Disappearance,  A Anna  Katharine  Green 

Strawberry  Acres Grace  S.  Richmond 

Strawberry  Handkerchief,  The Amelia  E.  Barr 

Streets  of  Ascalon,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Sunshine  Jane Anne  Warner 

Susan  Clegg  and  Her  Friend  Mrs.  Lathrop A.  Warner 

Sword  of  the  Old  Frontier,  A Randall  Parrish 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes A.  Conan  Doyle 

Tarzan  of  the  Apes Edgar  R.  Burroughs 

Taste  of  Apples,  The Jennette  Lee 

Tempting  of  Tavernake,  The E.  P.  Oppenheim 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L   Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


less  of  the  D'Urbervilles Thos.  Hardy 

That  Affair  Next  Door Anna  Katharine  Green 

That  Printer  of  Udell's Harold  Bell  Wright 

Their  Yesterdays Harold  Bell  Wright 

Three  Brothers,  The Eden  Phillpots 

Throwback,  The Alfred  Henry  Lewis 

Thurston  of  Orchard  Valley Harold  Bindloss 

Title  Market,  The Emily  Post 

To  M.  L.  G.;  or,  He  Who  Passed Anon. 

Torn  Sails:  A  Tale  of  a  Welsh  Village Allen  Raine 

Trail  of  the  Axe,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Trail  to  Yesterday,  The Chas.  A.  Seltzer 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The Marie  Corelli 

Trevor  Case,  The Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln 

Truth  Dexter Sidney  McCall 

T.  Tembarom Frances  Hodgson  Burnett 

Turbulent  Duchess Percy  J.  Brebner 

Twenty-fourth  of  June,  The Grace  S.  Richmond 

Twins  of  Suffering  Creek,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Two-Gun  Man,  The Chas.  A.  Seltzer 

Uncle  William Jennette  Lee 

"Unto  Caesar" Baroness  Orczy 

Up  From  Slavery Booker  T.  Washington 

Valiants  of  Virginia,  The Hallie  Erminie  Rives 

Valley  of  Fear,  The Sir  A.  Conan  Doyle 

Vanished  Messenger,  The E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Vane  of  the  Timberlands Harold  Bindloss 

Vashti Augusta  Evans  Wilson 

Village  of  Vagabonds,  A F.  Berkeley  Smith 

Visioning,  The Susan  Glaspell 

Wall  of  Men,  A Margaret  H.  McCarter 

Wallingford  in  His  Prime Ceo.  Randolph  Chester 

Wanted — A  Chaperon Paul  Leicester  Ford 

Wanted — A  Matchmaker Paul  Leicester  Ford 

Watchers  of  the  Plains,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Way  Home,  The Basil  King 

Way  of  an  Eagle,  The E.  M.  Dell 

Way  of  a  Man,  The Emerson  Hough 

Way  of  the  Strong,  The Ridgwell  Cullum 

Wayfarers,  The ^ Mary  Stewart  Cutting 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

AT  MODERATE  PRICES 

Ask  your  dealer  for  a  complete  list  of 
A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Weavers,  The Gilbert  Parker 

V/est  Wind,  The Cyrus  T.  Brady 

When  Wilderness  Was  King Randall  Parrish 

Where  the  Trail  Divides Will  Lillibridge 

Where  There's  a  Will Mary  Roberts  Rinehart 

White  Sister,  The Marion  Crawford 

Who  Goes  There Robert  W.  Chambers 

Window  at  the  White  Cat Mary  Roberts  Rinehart 

Winning  of  Barbara  Worth Harold  Bell  Wright 

Winning  the  Wilderness Margaret  Hill  M\cCarter 

With  Juliet  in  England Grace  S.  Richmond 

Witness  for  the  Defense,  The A.  E.  W.  Mason 

Woman  in  Question,  The John  Reed  Scott 

Woman  Haters,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Woman  Thou  Gavest  Me,  The Hall  Caine 

Woodcarver  of  'Lympus,  The Mary  E.  Waller 

Woodfire  in  No.  3,  The F.  Hopkinson  Smith 

Wooing  of  Rosamond  Fayre Berta  Ruck 

Wrecker,  The Robert  Louis  Stevenson 

Yellow  Letter,  The William  Johnston 

You  Never  Know  Your  Luck Gilbert  Parker 

Younger  Set,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


DEC  15  1937 


LD  21-95m-7,'37 


U       /  UU  I 


912880 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


